Coming Home
by ginchy-amanda
Summary: AU. 1930s. Shelagh Mannion has left the Order of Saint Raymond Nonnatus and has answered an advertisement for the Frontier Nursing Service in America. She will provide nursing and midwifery care in the rural mountains of Eastern Kentucky under a two-year contract. There she will meet the local doctor, a widower, with a small son...
1. Prologue

The sun was beginning to rise, pale light showing through the white curtain at the window. Shelagh Mannion remained in bed, leaning back against the wall. She watched the gray outlines of the unfamiliar room as they brightened into actual color with the sun's light. Last evening she had only given the room a cursory look, ascertaining the cleanliness of the establishment. She had never before been in a boarding house, and feared the worst, even as the kindly landlady, Mrs. Taylor, had showed her to the room. So far the fears had been for naught, as the room was well in order, almost as neat and as spare as the cell Shelagh had left behind at Nonnatus House.

Shelagh's heart skipped a beat at the thought of the home she had left. For so long she had been focused on the religious life and now that focus was gone. She was no longer bound to the rules and the order that Nonnatus had brought to her. It shamed her that she felt some relief to be free of the strict rules. It was strangely liberating to walk into the world of man, to wear her hair free, and to choose her own way in life. The larger part of her worried incessantly that she had made the wrong choice, that she had not listened to God's Will, but rather to her own desire.

Five years ago the only things Shelagh Mannion had wanted in life were to be a nurse and to be a nun. Now the calling to nursing was as strong as it had ever been and so too was her faith in God. Yet she no longer felt a religious vocation. Sometimes it seemed as if the two were conflated: her religion and nursing, as if she believed she could not have one without the other. And now she had neither, having given up her position as midwife in her exit of Nonnatus.

With a sigh, she turned to the small clock on the table next to the bed. It read half past five. Mrs. Taylor had assured her that a small breakfast would be served at six, 'on the dot, dear'.

Gathering her courage, Shelagh left the bed. She stood before the small mirror above the washbasin. Pouring water from the pitcher into the bowl, she dabbed a flannel into the water, raising it to her face. She narrowed her eyes to see more clearly in the mirror. A memory of standing in front of a mirror in the convent came to her then, and her stomach clenched. Have I doubted you, Lord? Shelagh closed her eyes and scrubbed at her face. Slightly refreshed, she donned her glasses and dressed, moving toward the window to look out into the street.

London was beginning to awaken, and the street was already filling with people headed out to begin their days, heading in directions known only to them. Shelagh watched as a woman exited the flat across from the boarding house, and set off down the road, sure in her step. For Shelagh the day stretched out, interminable. She was no longer on call, and had no offices to keep. Nonnatus House was in her past, and she must now look to her future. The only work she had was in making her way in this new and unfamiliar life. The task suddenly seemed daunting, and she almost wished to go back to the convent and into the familiar. Attempting to squash the fear she turned away from the window and knelt beside the bed. Folding her hands she searched her mind for a prayer, but found only a question: _What next, Lord_?

...

After breakfast Shelagh settled into the parlour with a few of the other boarders. Mrs. Taylor kept a small library of papers and books on the desk by the window, and encouraged the girls to use what items they needed. Shelagh paged idly through a magazine, noting the classifieds. She would have to go to the shops and find Midwives Chronicle and Nursing Notes to look for job openings. Her nursing and midwifery skills were top-notch, and would be valuable in any setting. She had only to find the setting.

"Would you like to switch?"

Shelagh looked at the young woman next to her, holding a folded newspaper. She looked down at the magazine she held, realizing she hadn't really been reading it. "Oh, of course!" She closed the pages and handed them over, smiling politely. The girl nodded in response and opened the magazine, while Shelagh looked down at the newspaper. She skimmed a few articles before turning to peruse the classifieds, wondering if any nursing positions would be listed. Her fingers itched for a fountain pen as she found a few possibilities, and she wondered if Mrs. Taylor would allow her to take the paper to her room to copy the interesting adverts into her notebook.

Running a finger down the page she stopped at the next nursing ad, taken in by its use of bold lettering.

ATTENTION! NURSE GRADUATES

With a sense of Adventure!

Your own horse

Your own dog

and a thousand miles of Kentucky Mountains to serve

Join my Nurses Brigade and help save children's lives

Write to M. Breckinridge, Hyden Kentucky USA

It was certainly an interesting advertisement in comparison to the others. S he vaguely remembered hearing of a Mary Breckinridge, an American nurse who had trained in England to become a nurse-midwife. Shelagh looked to the print again. Adventure, horses, dogs, saving children's lives...it was quite something out of a serial. Shelagh looked up from the paper for a moment, and tried to imagine what the ad promised. She found that she couldn't picture it, or herself in it. Her life so far had been comprised of order, obedience, structure. Adventure had never been something she had been attracted to. Especially not adventure an ocean away. She tried to picture America and where Kentucky might be, and found that she was unsure. She stood and walked to the desk, looking through the materials there for an atlas.

"Can I help you to find anything, dear?" Mrs. Taylor smiled at Shelagh, reaching out to neaten a stack of newspapers.

"Oh." Shelagh looked down at the advertisements in her hand. She held the paper up for Mrs. Taylor to see. "Might I take this back to my room? To copy the adverts of interest?"

"So long as you bring it back for the others to enjoy, too." Mrs. Taylor nodded toward the paper. "Did you find anything of note?"

Shelagh smiled faintly, unsure of speaking so freely to the landlady. "Perhaps a few opportunities. I was hoping to find an atlas, which is why I was looking so intently through the items here on the desk. I can always try the library, of course."

"Oh, there's no need for that. My Jas had quite a few reference books for his studies. I'll pop and see if there was an atlas. But whatever are you looking for? I'm sure that I can tell you about any road in the district, dear."

Looking down to hide a smile, Shelagh held the advertisements up again. "I know my way around fairly well, but this ad is a wee bit different, Mrs. Taylor. It's in America."

Mrs. Taylor's eyebrows rose. "So far away!" She took the ad and read it. "Riding on horseback through the country, a dog at your side? Very romantic."

Shelagh shifted uncomfortably. "It would be a …. Change."

"Indeed." Mrs. Taylor gave the ad back to Shelagh. "I'll get the book for you. Back in a jiffy."

...

Once back in her room, Shelagh copied the advertisement, comparing her copy with the newsprint to ensure its accuracy. She thumbed through the atlas until she found the world maps, and eyed the strange shapes of the American states until she found Kentucky. The vague description of the south-eastern part of the county gave her little information to go on, yet she found herself tracing the strange ridge at the top of the state with her finger. A river, she thought, unable to image anyone drawing a line of demarcation that was so completely jagged.

She looked again at the ad, and thought of what Mrs. Taylor had said, of the romantic notions of horse-riding and saving children. Shelagh had little idea of America, let alone of this mountainous area in need of nurses. ATTENTION NURSE GRADUATES _With a Sense of Adventure_ …. Shelagh read the words again and again. She wasn't sure that she was the adventurous type, but being needed and providing care, those were things she was familiar with. What a change it would be, to leave everything behind, to try something new.

Shelagh bowed her head and began to pray. Some time later, when she raised her head, she took a crisp sheet of paper and began to write:

_7 October 1934_

_M. Breckinridge_

_Hyden, Kentucky USA_

_Dear Madam,_

_I am writing to inquire as to your Nurses Brigade…._

* * *

_a/n: My new story, _Coming Home_, is an AU look at Turnadette, but specifically at Shelagh. Set in the 1930s, the story follows Shelagh as she works for the Frontier Nursing Service based in Hyden/Leslie County, Kentucky. I would like to thank my-little-yellowbird and fourteen-teacups for believing in me and this story so very much. Disclaimer: I do not own Call the Midwife nor the Frontier Nursing Service. I write this out of love and admiration._


	2. Love of the Mountains

_In closing, I can only say, my dear, good friend, that I know your training and courage will serve you well in your undertaking. Please write us of your new life. Until such time, we will continue to pray for your well-being._

_May God Bless You, Sr. Julienne_

**March 1935**

The sun was shining, but the grass was still damp with dew. It had grown chilly overnight and Shelagh pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders as the horse picked her way along the trail. She was a smart horse, given into her care as she knew the trails and was a smaller horse, ideal for one of petite stature. Her given name was Bailey, but everyone referred to her as Mrs. B, though the nickname's origins seemed unclear to all of the nurses and couriers. Shelagh enjoyed riding with Mrs. B, though the horse-riding of her youth seemed inadequate in the face of the narrow, dangerous trails she now climbed daily. Mrs. Breckinridge had insisted that all new nurses in the Frontier Nursing Service employ be retrained in riding, and for that Shelagh was glad. The month of lessons had given her time to acclimate to her new life, so similar and yet so different to what had come before.

The two-year contract she had signed had seemed daunting and interminable as the ink dried on the paper, yet, a month in Kentucky had gone by in a flash. Learning to ride in the mountainous area was exhausting on its own, but learning trails, meeting the people, deciphering their accents, and stomaching the food was as wearing as it was exhilarating. Every waking hour was devoted to her calling as a nurse and that was a constant she clung to. The outer trappings had changed, but she was still a nurse, with purpose and a province to care for those unwell and unborn. Yet as she rode out on her horse, in her trousers, and smart cap, she thought that perhaps her previous Sisters and patients would never recognize her. Too much had changed.

She wasn't used to the trousers. They afforded freedom of movement and yet she could hardly stop expecting to wake in the morning and dress in her habit and underskirts. A dress would be wholly impractical on horseback and so trousers were the basis of the uniform of a Frontier Nurse. Shelagh looked ruefully down at her legs, thinking of the chafed skin of her inner thighs. The cream the other nurses offered helped with the sting of roughening skin, but riding a horse straight up a mountain was entirely different than riding a bicycle over the cobblestones of Poplar.

The children of Hyden liked to ask about England and bicycles, eyes widening to learn of a large city so far away. It helped a bit with the homesickness to talk of London and also Aberdeen, but it almost seemed another life that she had lived in her cloistered community. The restlessness she suffered there had brought her to America, and she tried to keep her mind in the present.

Just now she noticed a young woman standing outside of a small cabin, hand to her back. Shelagh reigned Mrs. B and stopped, smiling at her first patient of the day. "Good morning," she said, holding to the reins and dismounting the horse. "Nurse calling."

The quiet woman smiled her assent and waited while Shelagh tied the horse in the shade. She walked into the cabin, standing in the doorway. "How have you been this week, Mrs. Polly?" Shelagh mounted the stone step at the front of the house.

"Tolerable," she said, easing down onto the quilt laid out over her bed. "I seen Hiram out on his day and just been setting outside, catching the breeze."

Shelagh smiled, placing her bag on the table and opening it. "How is Mr. Polly? Anxious for your new arrival?"

"Said he'd be glad enough for the least 'un to get here already. Said sleeping next to me is like sleeping next to three people and each with hot coal in their pockets." Mrs. Polly laughed, smoothing a hand over her large belly. "I can never seem to get cool."

"Your body is expending terrific amounts of energy to nurture your baby. The crisp mornings must be a boon for you!" Shelagh took a pinard from her bag. "Let's have a listen and then we'll get on with your normal checks. Your sugar was higher than I would have liked it to be the last time I was here."

"I been staying away from sweets. Tryin' to eat the meat and vegetables, like you tol' me." Mrs. Polly quieted for a moment. "It has been cool these past few mornings," she said, after Shelagh removed the pinard. "Little thing like you must be half-froze!" Mrs. Polly pulled up her shirt and settled against the pillows. Her lips pressed together as Shelagh placed the pinard against the skin. "You kin hear it's heart, can't you? It won't be like my first."

Shelagh smiled as the steady whoosh of the baby's heart echoed through her instrument. She placed it on the small table near the bed. "Baby's heartbeat sounds lovely and strong, Mrs. Polly. I'm here to give you, and baby, the best possible care."

"Thank you, Nurse Mannion. You nurses are doing the Lord's work. What they say over to Hyden is true. You all's angels. Our angels."

"Oh, thank you, though I'm sure that's an overstatement," Shelagh said, trying to tamp the redness in her cheeks. "We're just women, ready to serve and to care." She pulled a measuring tape from the bag. Looking up, she caught Mrs. Polly's eye. "Please remember that you can have Mr. Polly come for me at Beech Fork Center. Our clinic is every Tuesday. Or, if anything appears amiss, have him go on to Hyden Hospital. We want to take care of you."

"You already are, Nurse."

...

Waving goodbye to Mrs. Polly, Shelagh and Mrs. B continued up the windy mountain trail, an overhang of trees impeding the sun from warming the hoarfrost. Around the bend was another small cabin and Shelagh again dismounted, this time handing the reins over to a young boy who ran out of the house. "Momma!" he yelled, over the sound of a baby's cries as he looked back toward the house. "Nurse is here!" He rubbed at his freckled nose and looked at Shelagh. "My Ma's expecting ya. She's been paining some."

"Oh, dear." Shelagh took down her bag. "Thank you, Elliot. Is your father home?"

"Nah, ma'am. Pa's done down in Hyden. He's…" Elliot rubbed his nose again. He shot an embarrassed look at Shelagh before looking away quickly. "Working."

"That's fine," Shelagh said, patting the boy on the shoulder, ignoring the unspoken words. "Thank you for taking care of Mrs. B."

"We'll get along just fine." Elliot walked off with the horse and Shelagh hurried into the house.

"Midwife calling!" She took off her wraps and closed the door. "Oh, Mrs. Sutherland!" She bustled to the woman, who sat in a chair surrounded by her younger children. Her hands were on her distended abdomen and her upper lip was curled as a pain caught her. Shelagh looked to the eldest daughter. "Hello, Sara. Remember me? Nurse Mannion?"

Sara nodded, eyes huge. " 'llo, Miss Nurse."

Shelagh smiled. "I'm here to help your mother. While I see to her would you mind terribly to take your little siblings into the next room?" It was a two room shanty, and through a partially opened blanket hanging from a doorway Shelagh could see a few trundle beds made up on the floor.

Sara nodded and took up the baby, whose cries had quieted, though his lower lip quivered and tears stood fat and ready to fall on his eyelashes. The other children ran behind, snapping the blanket closed over the breadth of the door.

Mrs. Sutherland sighed, her hands unclenching as the pain passed. "Thank you, Nurse. I'da asked them to go on but the pain hit me quicker than a tick jumping a hound. I think this un's a coming today."

Shelagh smiled. "Little ones come into this world when they're ready and not a moment before!"

"You kin say that one again, Nurse. Done had six of them give me notice that I ain't the boss." She laughed. "Elliot out there was the hardest, but he was first. Little Johnny in there just slid right out, looking for the teat before I knowed he was even born!"

"Oh, my!" Shelagh laughed, and looked around the small room, idly listening to the prattling children in the next. "Let's be getting you onto the bed for a check and we'll see just what we're facing." Stepping to the bed, she looked to Mrs. Sutherland. "May I?" She imitated pulling back the quilts. "I have some newsprint to put down on the bed to save your mattress."

"That'd be fine." Mrs. Sutherland stood up on shaky legs. "My," she said, moving slowly toward the bed. "Cora said you were the sweetest little thing and from what I've seen she hain't wrong. She ought to be here at some point today. Always knows when a baby's coming on this mountain. I don't know if she has the sight or if she's just so nosy that she knows when a woman's done her duty by her man."

Shelagh's cheeks warmed. "Cora's been very kind. Many of the Granny Midwives in the hills didn't want to have much to do with us. She's been more than welcoming. She wouldn't even let me refer to her as Mrs. Tucker. Apparently it makes her feel more like we're friends if I call her by her given name. She's clucked over me from the moment we met." Plumping the bed's pillows, Shelagh waited for Mrs. Sutherland to suitably undress and situate herself against them. "I've appreciated the help she's given me, especially in navigating this mountain!"

"Lord, I've lived here since the day I was borned and there are still some trails I don't… ohhhh, here's another, Nurse…" Mrs. Sutherland grunted, clutching her hardening stomach. "You'd think this'd get easier, dealing with the pain…." She blew out a breath as the contraction eased, turning her head toward the blanket as Johnny began to cry. After a moment he settled as his sister began to sing and she turned back to Shelagh.

"It does seem unfair that it should still be so painful." Pulling on a pair of gloves, Shelagh moved to the end of the bed. "Whenever you feel ready, Mrs. Sutherland, I'd like to check your progress-"

Mrs. Sutherland moved into position, knees wide apart and feet pressed toward her bottom. "Ready, Nurse."

"Well, quite." Shelagh examined her quickly, nodding resolutely. "Absolutely perfect, Mrs. Sutherland. You're very close now. I would imagine that your waters will go at any moment and before…" she looked at the small clock that ticked on the mantle,"...the noon hour we may have a baby."

"I'd just as soon have it before that, if I can manage it."

Shelagh smiled softly, pulling a quilt up over Mrs. Sutherland's legs. "Your quilt is lovely." She lightly touched the bright circular pattern. "Did you make this?"

"My Momma," Mrs. Sutherland said, touching another circle. "She was always a-quilting if she had a moment to herself. I never did pick it up. Said my fingers weren't so nimble." She spread her hands out over the quilt, examining the boxy digits. "She were right. But I purely love these quilts. Makes me miss her less."

Shelagh thought briefly of her own mother. There were no quilts to carry on her memory. "That's lovely-"

She was cut off by Elliot trudging through the door. "Momma, I done pulled the milk out of the stream so's we can get the cream. And Clarence and Bud are wanting to know if I can go and cut some hay with 'em. I told 'em I'd ask you… oh. Is the baby a-coming today?" He set a jar of milk on the table.

"Tis," Mrs. Sutherland said. "So you go on with Clarence and Bud but come on home afore dark, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and went to the blanket, peeking around it. "Sis, come on out here and separate the cream. I'm going to the fields." Looking back to Shelagh he grinned. "Your horse is fed and watered, so if you aim to leave, she's ready to go." He looked back toward his mother. "Have Sis come for me if you need me, Momma."

The door closed behind him, as Sara exited from the blanket to take up the cream from the milk.

"How are the least ones, Sis?" Mrs. Sutherland shifted on the bed as another pain came over her.

"We're fine, Momma…" Sara looked at Shelagh. "Do you want some milk, ma'am?"

"No. Thank you." Shelagh smiled at the young girl. "Are you going to make butter?"

"Momma is."

"Momma will later…." Mrs. Sutherland gave a quiet gasp. "I think my waters went. Sis, go on back in there. We'll deal with that milk later. Take some of the cream for your breakfasts…" she trailed off, lip furling again.

Sis took a bowl of cream and went back behind the blanket as Shelagh checked the bed. "The waters are clear, just as they should be. Your mother's quilt is also quite safe. She pulled it back and then worked to remove and replace the soiled newsprint. "Cora's not here yet. I think perhaps the least one will be here first!"

"I think…" Mrs. Sutherland curled her lip again. "I think you're right… oh…"

Shelagh performed another check. "Mrs. Sutherland, you're into transition. It won't be too long now."

The next hour passed quickly, as the contractions strengthened. "I think I need to push now," Mrs. Sutherland panted, breaking her silence.

Shelagh had been told upon entering the FNS that women in Kentucky labored silently, so as not to scare the children that were often underfoot during the process, but also due to their pride. Mrs. Sutherland had labored with her breath, but had not uttered a scream or any noise louder than a grunt. "Let's have a look…" She examined Mrs. Sutherland and then looked over her shoulder at the clock. "Almost the noon hour…."

A knock sounded at the door.

Mrs. Sutherland smiled through her pain. "And that'll be Cora."

...

Twenty minutes later, Cora sat rocking a newborn baby girl by the fire, cooing gently as she counted fingers and toes, exclaiming over each one. "As fine a baby girl as ever was borned," she said, smiling at Mrs. Sutherland. "You done good, Mercy."

"Thank you, Cora." The afterbirth had passed quickly, and now Mrs. Sutherland rested as Shelagh checked it. "Did Laurettie have hers yet?"

"Just yesterday," Cora said, holding the newborn close as it began to fuss. "Lord, baby, I don't have what you want." She stood and passed the baby back to Mrs. Sutherland. "Ready for the teat. Laurettie had a boy and it had three teeth already in hit's head."

"Teeth!" The baby latched on. "Oh, poor Laur. I reckon I can help her to feed him if he chews her raw."

Cora laughed. "Lord, don't they all?"

Shelagh finished with the afterbirth. "Perfect, Mrs. Sutherland. All's well. Cora, how was baby? Did she pink up well?"

"Prettiest, fattest baby you ever seen." She grinned at Mrs. Sutherland. "Mercy's an old hand." She jerked her hand toward the blanket and the noise of playing children beyond it. "Just listen at 'em. I dearly love to hear them play."

Mrs. Sutherland shook her head. "Sometimes it's nice to kick 'em out into the trail so I can get some peace!" She looked down at the newborn. "Though tween this one and Johnny, I think my days of peace are far off yet."

"Lord, don't wish for too much silence," Cora answered. "My Fount's been gone five years and what I wouldn't give to hear him snore. Never thought I'd say that, that's fer damn sure!"

"Oh, Cora," Mrs. Sutherland patted her arm. "He was a good man."

"He was. And I miss him." Cora looked at the suckling baby, smiling fondly. "Catching babies has filled my life since he's been gone." She looked to Shelagh. "And these young nurses. Once I got to understandin' their fancy talk." She grinned, reaching for her bag and pulling from it her pipe. She lit it and watched as Shelagh finished stripping the bed. "You headed up the trail oncet you're finished here?"

Shelagh tied the sheets together into a neat bundle. She began to wash her hands in a clean basin of water. "Yes. I want to look in on Mrs. Johnson and get a look at this baby born with teeth! Also, I believe there is a family with children on the other side of the creek that runs behind the Johnson home, though I haven't yet met with them. I wanted to call in and invite them to tomorrow's clinic."

Mrs. Sutherland nodded. "There is a family up there. Kentons. They keep to themselves. The wife's name is Ruth. I'd tread lightly. Maybe take Cora here with ya." She patted the newborn as it released her breast and sqawked. "Try again," she murmured, encouraging the baby back to the nipple.

"Them Kentons do like to stick with their own. Mean-like people. But hard workers. I reckon Ruth Kenton could use someone to help her look after that brood. If I recollect correct, she done lost two to the influenza and one fell out of a tree and broke his neck. Dr. Turner was called but couldn't save the poor thing."

"Oh, how dreadful." Shelagh finished washing her hands and dried them on a clean towel. "I can only hope that perhaps Mrs. Kenton will be open to preventative health care for herself and her children. Dr. Turner will be at Beech Fork tomorrow. He alternates daily between clinics. Perhaps she'd feel more comfortable coming in on the day he's seeing patients."

Cora looked at Mrs. Sutherland. "Kentons and the Turners always had bad blood. Back when I was a girl they feuded a bit, though it calmed after the Great War. Don't think the men had it left in 'em to fight after what they seen."

Mrs. Sutherland agreed, switching the baby to her other breast. "The feuds have gone, mostly, though you would never know it from the way the boys carouse and shoot their guns down there in Hyden."

"It is very dangerous." Shelagh began to clean her instruments, placing them in a bag to be sterilized back at the center.

Cora puffed out a ring of smoke. "They're showing off. Bunch of young boys with too much time on their hands and too much moonshine in their bellies."

"Well, there's a lot less in my belly now," Mrs. Sutherland said, patting the baby on the back as it fell asleep against her. "Thank you, Nurse Mannion."

Shelagh smiled and did a final check of both Mrs. Sutherland and the baby, pronouncing them both to be in fine fettle. She closed her bag and looked to the new mother. "If you need me before tomorrow, just send your husband or Elliot to the Center. Otherwise, I'll see you tomorrow on my regular rounds."

Cora stood from her seat, stretching her lower back. "I can come back, stay the night, should you need the help tonight, Mercy."

"Thank ya, but we'll be fine, Cora. You go on with Nurse Mannion." She smiled down at the baby, fast asleep at her breast. "I gotta feed my other'uns." She buttoned up her dress. "Children!" she called, toward the blanket, "come and meet your new sister!"

A whoop came up from the kids, as they galloped into the room. Laughing together, Shelagh and Cora took their leave, heading out into thin sunshine and a cold breeze. They mounted their horses and set off on the trail, Shelagh smiling over at Cora. "Thank you for riding with me. I think it's a comfort for a new patient to see and talk with someone familiar."

"Happy to do it, Shelagh. And you can count on me for clinic tomorrow. And not just to hold babies. I can help with the set up and cleaning, too. Little thing like you, running that clinic all on your own. What is Mrs. Breckinridge thinkin? I know the times are tough, but a nurse alone is askin' for trouble."

"I'm not completely alone at the center, Cora. The couriers stop in and sometimes stay overnight. Truthfully most evenings are spent on the mountain or down at the river. It's been a month and I've already delivered eight babies!"

"There'll be more come good spring, mark my words."

Shelagh and Cora rode on to the Johnson shanty, checking over Laurettie and the baby. Despite the three natal teeth the baby seemed fit and well and bonny, as Shelagh proclaimed, handing him back to his mother. Mrs. Johnson invited them to have dinner with she, her mother, and her children. Cora and Shelagh agreed, sitting down to a nooning meal of salt pork and cornbread. After leaving the Johnson's they rode down toward the creek, Cora leading Shelagh to the best spot to cross the horses. Just ahead the Kenton house stood, the ramshackle building partially hidden in a grove of trees.

Cora hello'd the house and two young boys ran out, knobby knees dirty and scratched under their rolled up homespun trousers.

"Hello, Mrs. Tucker," the older boy said to Cora. He nodded his head at Shelagh. "Ma'am. You one them nurses?"

"I am," she said, looking down at him from her perch. "Is your mother available to talk with us? It won't take more than a moment of her time."

A woman stepped out of the front door. "Paul, Matthew. Run down there and tell your Daddy that I need more sticks for the fire." She turned to Cora and Shelagh as the boys ran off. "What kin I do for you?"

Cora smiled and gestured to Shelagh. "Mrs. Kenton, I know you heard of the nursing service that set up down to Hyden. Well, this here is our own nurse, up and down this trail and down to Beech Fork. Her name's Nurse Shelagh Mannion. I thought I'd bring her out here to talk to you, see if she could be doing anything for ya or the least uns."

"I don't think so. We're not in need." Mrs. Kenton pursed her lips. "Thank you."

From inside the house a child yelled and another coughed. "A late winter cold?" Cora rubbed her hands to warm them. "Nurse Mannion can look in on him."

"My family and I get by jus' as we always have. You know that."

Shelagh could see that Cora wanted to argue, so she cut in. "I understand, Mrs. Kenton. We only wanted to let you know of the service. We provide midwifery, nursing, vaccinations, and medical care. Our midwifery services are five dollars a year, if you're so inclined. As Mrs. Tucker mentioned, I'm stationed at Beech Fork Nursing Center, should you have need of me, day or night."

Mrs. Kenton inclined her head. "I'll remember that. I got to get back to the young'uns. Thank you for riding out."

Turning their horses, Shelagh and Cora set off back down the trail. "It was a better welcome than I imagined," Cora said. "We weren't met with a shotgun!"

"Oh, Cora," Shelagh said, smiling at her new friend. "I know the young men in Hyden are rather… overzealous with their firearms, but I've not met anything like that yet on the mountain."

"And you won't. You nurses are the best thing happened to use out here. These men would rather shoot their own selves than to see a one of you hurt. Why when Mrs. Breckinridge first rode out there in the twenties she found such a kind response that she decided to build a house for herself here, over there to Wendover. Still, some places can be dangerous, especially if there's a still set up or if someone feels they've been wronged on their own land. Crossing unfamiliar land can be dangerous, too. Stick to the paths."

"I will." They stopped the horses at a fork in the road. Cora turned her horse north, toward her cabin. "I'll see you tomorrow, Shelagh. Git some sleep. I been to your clinic. The women'll be there afore dawn. It'll be a day!"

"You too, Cora. Thanks for your assistance." Shelagh waved and began the long trek back down the mountain as the sun began to descend in the sky. The day hadn't warmed much and she snuggled into her uniform jacket, thinking of the warmth of the clinic and the dinner that she would have when she arrived. The home visits were her new daily routine and she found that she enjoyed them, even as the ride up and down the mountain seemed to grow longer with each passing day. Shelagh had taken to finding landmarks to orientate herself to the trail and also to pass the time in the saddle. From the fork in the trail was a rock shaped like a turtle, and only a little further was the tree split from lightning. After that leg of the journey there was the small pond and the abandoned cabin and beyond that was the open valley, leading to the nursing center.

Arriving just as the sun was setting, Shelagh fed and sheltered Mrs. B, before heading inside. Lighting the lamps, Shelagh went into the clinic kitchen to wash and sterilize her equipment. She could never sleep with equipment that was not thoroughly cleaned, even if she had several kits to use in the case of an emergency. Once the water began to boil, she dropped in the instruments and retired into her small bedroom to remove her uniform. Gathering her notes, she went to the kitchen table to keep an eye on the boiling instruments and to write up her notes. The evening loomed long and lonely ahead of her, though at any moment a desperate father may mount the step at her door, helloing for her to follow him back up the mountain to his family home.

She placed her pencil on the table, listening to the wind outside of the Center. She had not lied to Cora. She wasn't alone in the Center, not always. In the beginning two nurses had staffed each Center. The downturn in the economy had lead to a dearth of the donations the FNS ran on, it had been decided that one nurse per Center would have to suffice. Many nights a young courier would bed down and stay for an evening to help with sanitation and caring for the horses. Though Shelagh was always kind to the young girls she never felt quite at ease when a courier would stay over. They were all still very young and eager to please, very chatty. It was far easier when two couriers might stay for the evening. Shelagh could then listen to their chatter and feel as if she were part of the conversation without having to entertain. It had been tougher than she imagined, leaving the quiet of her cloistered environment. She was used to long silences and though she enjoyed listening to the young Americans speak on fashion and Hollywood stars she didn't feel quite comfortable enough to express her own opinions on topics she knew so little about.

Yet, as the evenings lengthened into night she sometimes found herself longing to hear a nervous father knocking at her door. She found that she longed to be in action, preferring to ride the trails and deliver medical care than to sit and wait for the next thing to happen. It seemed to her that she had already waited for her life to begin and she was impatient in waiting further. She prayed daily for the ability to slow her desire for action, to allow herself to center her thoughts and achieve the peace she had once found so easily.

Frowning at herself, Shelagh picked up her pencil and finished her notes before removing the cleaned instruments to dry. Standing at the small food prep counter she prepared a sandwich, chewing as she looked out the window and into the darkened night. She was tired and yet, couldn't help a small, pleased smile. All of her life she had longed to make a difference in the world, to set things to rights for those who could not do so for themselves. The work was hard. Merely saddling up and riding straight up a mountain was daunting enough, yet delivering babies in all sorts of weather and home conditions added to the stress of the work. Learning the ropes, meeting the new patients, and growing accustomed to the new surroundings was exhausting. Providing vaccinations, delivering new life, and caring for the ill was as demanding as it was rewarding. The days and nights were long and full of work.

Shelagh loved it. She was in a unique position among the other nurse-midwives, having already dedicated herself to a life of solitude and service, only this time in a different guise. She often thought that Sister Bernadette, used to bicycling over Poplar's cobbled streets, would not recognize Shelagh Mannion, uniformed and on horseback. Though perhaps it was the other way around. One evening in the convent she had removed her wimple and cap to let her hair hang free, looking at her reflection in the mirror. It was somewhat ironic that she now always wore her hair pulled back into a bun or braid, horseback riding and nursing hardly suitable for loose hair. Reaching behind, she pulled at the pins that held her workaday bun, shaking out the wavy strands, eyeing her reflection in the darkened window.

Shaking her head at her foolishness, she finished her meager meal and set about preparing for bed. She cast aside unnecessary thoughts and turned her mind ahead to morning's clinic. She thought of Cora saying that it would 'be a day' and knew that she was right. Women would start lining up before dawn. Whispering a prayer to ask for serenity in duty and a capable hand, Shelagh fell asleep, another day in Kentucky done and dusted.


	3. Born in Old Kentucky

_...we must follow where He leads. Though in my view, Nurse Mannion, there is plenty of work willed by the Lord right here in Poplar. Keep that in mind upon your return. As to 'unwelcome visitors' in the houses, I'm certain there's some type of soap available in America; perhaps even Lifebuoy? Lift rugs and rub between cracks in the floorboards to rid houses of them…. Until such time as you return, Sr. Evangelina_

Cora had been correct. The line of women at Tuesday's Clinic did start before dawn. Women with appointments, women without, children running back and forth, happy to be free of chores, and young babies crying thinly, awakened too early. Shelagh looked out of the Clinic's window, mentally counting patients, trying to make a plan for seeing to each need. She boiled a kettle of water for tea and quickly consumed a packet of biscuits. The clock read ten minutes before eight and Dr. Turner had not yet arrived. The nurses at Hyden had laughed as they told her about Dr. Turner, how he was always late, disheveled, and somewhat absent-minded. A native Kentuckian, he had been raised in the Beech Fork area and was schooled at the University of Louisville. Officially licensed to practice medicine, he had once been the only actual doctor within a thousand square miles of Hyden, working in tandem with 'granny midwives' like Cora to provide any sort of medical care for the people in the remote mountains which he had called home. When Mary Breckinridge sought to set up the Frontier Nursing Service she had found him to be excited at the prospect, slowly drowning in the care that he could not provide for all in need.

The nurses had also said that he was a widower with a young son. Shelagh remembered her own father and his struggle after her mother passed and bristled at the laugher the nurses gave at the doctor's expense. From the little she had seen of him at her first clinic at Hyden Hospital, he seemed to be caring and kind-qualities one didn't often find in a doctor. The clock clicked ever-closer to eight and Shelagh decided to open clinic without him, separating patients into those who could be seen by only her and those who would need to wait for doctor's care.

Smoothing her hands over her starched apron, she opened the door, smiling as Cora was the first to enter. "Good morning, Cora!" she stepped aside to let Cora pass and then nodded to the patients. "Hello, ladies! Right-please step inside and line-up at the desk. If you have an appointment please present the appointment card that I, or one of the nurses at Hyden, would have given you at your last appointment or home visit. If you do not have an appointment card please see me at the desk. I hope to have all of you checked in so that we may start appointments no later than nine."

A group of women moved forward to the desk as young children settled in the floor. Older children stayed out on the front porch and a din filled the air as women chatted and children played. At the desk Shelagh took down patient information, setting the schedule for the day as Cora moved among the women, cooing at babies and complementing well-behaved children. An uptick in the women's voices made Shelagh look up from her schedule.

"Good morning, ladies." Dr. Turner stood in the doorway to the Center, his white coat bright in the morning light as he shrugged into it. He looked toward the desk and caught Shelagh's eye. "Nurse Mannion?"

Shelagh nodded to the patient in front of her. "Excuse me," she said. "Dr. Turner, welcome. I'm setting a schedule for the day."

"It looks like we'll need it," he said, looking around at the crowd. "Before we begin, I overtook this young lady in the road. She was headed out here. One of your couriers."

A young woman with a bright smile came into the center. "Hello, Nurse Mannion. I'm Lisette Dupree. I'm volunteering for the next few months. I did so last spring, as well. I was assigned to you here at Beech Fork for the duration."

Shelagh smiled. "That'll be fine." She shook Lisette's hand as Dr. Turner went into the kitchen to set up. "Perhaps you would take over the scheduling so that Dr. Turner and I might start seeing to patients?" When Lisette nodded her assent, Shelagh gave her an overview of the scheduling information needed and then stepped away, walking into kitchen.

Cora was there, laughing with Dr. Turner. "...the baby shot right out, like out of a canon! I've never seen alike."

Dr. Turner smiled. "You've seen it all, Mrs. Cora."

"Most of it with you!" She smiled at him fondly. "How's your least 'un? I ain't seen him in an age. Your brother keeps him up there with him and his lot."

"He does. You know that they're right good people, Thomas and Anna Jane. It's why I entrusted Timothy to them." Dr. Turner finished unpacking his bag. "He's well. Smart as a whip. I'm just as proud."

Cora patted his arm. "Takes after his Momma."

"That he does…" Dr. Turner noticed Shelagh in the doorway. "Nurse Mannion. I apologize for my lateness. I was seeing to an elderly patient this morning over to Hell-For-Certain creek. Afterward, I overtook Miss Dupree… I'm ready to begin when you are."

"That's quite all right, Dr. Turner," Shelagh said, voice softening as she thought of Dr. Turner's son living with his brother. After a beat she looked down, consulting the appointment cards that she held in her hands. "Several of our patients need only nursing care, though we also have several antenatal patients, including two that you've flagged as high-risk."

"Given the number of women out there the two of ya mighten be at it all day." Cora smacked Dr. Turner on the arm and left the clinical room.

Dr. Turner looked at Shelagh and smiled. "Should we begin?"

Shelagh smiled back. "Indeed." Stepping to the threshold, she called their first patients.

...

Sneaking in a break after several hours of clinic, Shelagh went to the kitchen, desperate for a cup of tea. She poured one and sat at the table, stretching her aching legs. They'd made decent progress, though at least ten more patients were left to be seen. She closed her eyes for just a moment, enjoying the brief respite and the hot tea.

"Oh, Nurse Mannion, I apologize."

Shelagh's eyes popped open at the sound of Dr. Turner's voice.

"Dr. Turner." She placed her teacup on the saucer and looked up at him. He stood in the doorway, rubbing his index finger and thumb together as he looked at her. "Won't you have a cup of tea?" She nodded to the teapot. "I'd be happy to pour for you."

He smiled slightly, as if unsure. "That would be much appreciated. Thank you." He entered the room and leaned against the counter. "Busy day," he offered, as he watched her pour the tea.

Outside of the room they could hear Cora speaking with the patients, cooing over babies and setting mothers at ease. "Thank goodness for Cora," she said, handing him the cup. She gestured to the sugar and smiled as he added a few spoonfuls and stirred.

"Yes," he said, after taking a sip. "Thank you for the tea. I generally prefer it cold, when we can get ice. But on a cool day and after a passel of patients…" He took another sip and smiled at her commiserating nod. "Mrs. Cora has always been a pistol. It took me three weeks of nonstop pesterin' to get her to take me on a midwifery case with her when I was a kid." He drank again and his brows raised at her questioning look. "Before medical school. I was desperate for any sort of medical training."

Shelagh tried to imagine a younger Dr. Turner and Cora. "It took three weeks to wear her down?"

"Three weeks and a promise to do all her weedin' for a year." He took another sip. "I believe I still owe her six months of that contract."

Shelagh laughed. "When I met her at Hyden I wasn't sure what to make of her. She pulled out her pipe and told me in no uncertain terms that she knew the mountain better than anyone and would be my chaperone. She really has shown me the ropes."

"That's Mrs. Cora," he said, a fond smile breaking across his face. He drained his teacup and set it in the sink before taking out a pack of cigarettes. "Would you like one?" He took one and lit it, relaxing against the counter once more.

Taking a biscuit from her saucer, Shelagh shook her head. "I would, but not this time, Doctor." She paused, taking a bite of her sweet treat. She contemplated the doctor as he quietly smoked, noticing the frays at his cuffs and the dark circles below his eyes. She had known many doctors but had never spent time speaking with one so openly as she just had with Dr. Turner. Now she felt awkward and almost as if she had overstepped some invisible boundary. She took another bite of her biscuit, eager to finish so that she could disappear back amongst the patients.

"Have you had any bit a trouble on the mountain?" Dr. Turner stubbed out his cigarette. "Mrs. Cora is a wonderful chaperone but these trails can be confusing."

"Oh!" Shelagh looked back up at him. "Not really. I've set out several landmarks to remind me of where I am. The other nurses also gave me quite the course in learning each trail and home along our route. I shadowed several nurses the first few weeks so as to learn my way around. Truthfully the trails are very beautiful, even if they're not in full bloom quite yet."

"Hm." Dr. Turner smiled. "There are some places about that are worth seeing. How do you find the patients? When Mrs. Breckinridge brought the idea out here I was concerned that the locals wouldn't be… they would never be unwelcoming, but I feared that they would prefer to keep to their own."

Shelagh thought of Mrs. Kenton and the history Cora mentioned between the Kentons and Turners. "Most have made me feel extremely welcome! I especially enjoy the vaccination cases, though I suppose that might sound a bit odd. The children seem to welcome their jabs and never make a fuss. Knowing that a lasting difference is being made through the vaccination rates is very rewarding, not to mention the midwifery services."

Dr. Turner's eyes lit up. "Yes. Something that will go on working even after the Frontier Nursing Service has run its course… if , I should say. You nurses have provided a sterling service. Something we could not have provided ourselves. Too many people and not enough medical services. I could hardly believe our luck when Mrs. Breckinridge began her survey."

Shelagh's cheeks heated. "That's why I'm here. I read Mrs. Breckinridge's advertisement and wanted to make a difference in the lives of children."

"You are, Nurse Mannion."

"Thank you, Dr. Turner." Shelagh finished her biscuit. "The advertisement offered a sense of adventure over a thousand miles of Kentucky mountains." She gestured to their still packed waiting area.

Dr. Turner raised a brow. "Adventure is one word for it, sure."

Biting back a laugh, Shelagh said, "It also promised my own horse and my own dog. I've a horse, a very good one, but no dog as of yet."

"My son, Timothy, could probably find a dog for you. He's forever after my brother to let him bring another mutt home. Anna Jane, that's my brother's wife, says that she no sooner gets used to one dog than another appears. Said she wished he brought in money like he brings in dogs."

Shelagh laughed again. "I'll remember-"

Lisette stuck her head in the door, cutting Shelagh off. "I'm sorry," she said, looking apologetically at Dr. Turner. "There's a woman named Mrs. Charles here, asking to speak with you on a matter of some urgency."

"That's fine," he said, pushing off the counter. He looked at Shelagh. "Nervous mother. Though one can never be too sure." He sent her a distracted smile. "Thank you for the tea."

Shelagh watched as he left the kitchen, heading back into the fray. Placing her own teacup into the sink, she followed after him.

...

The last of the women left the clinic, children following behind them as they saddled up or began the long walk back up the mountain. Lisette sat at the intake table finishing up a few notes and Dr. Turner buttoned his coat, reaching for his bag. "I'm off to supp with Tim. Anna Jane likes to serve right at six." He looked at his watch and sighed. "We'll see if I can still make it."

"You go on, honey," Cora said, waving him to the door. "I'm here to help Nurse Mannion and young Lisette. You tell Tim I'm waiting for him to come and help me with my canning." She waved as Dr. Turner went out the door. "Tim purely loves to come up to my cabin and eat all the preserves I'm trying to save for winter." She laughed. "He's a good boy," she said, looking out the window as Dr. Turner saddled up.

Shelagh wondered if Cora meant Tim or Dr. Turner. "Dr. Turner is very… different," she said.

Cora turned to Shelagh. "He's a good man. They always stand out in a crowd."

With a smile, Shelagh began to clear up trays of instruments, heading for the kitchen to clean instruments. "I'm sure he is. He seems very kind and competent. He's…" she trailed off, not sure of what she wished to say.

"He's one of the few who left the mountains and came back. First for medical school and then for the war. Most who go don't come back. But he did. He feels he's needed here. And he is." Cora picked up a tray. "Let me help you with these."

In the kitchen Shelagh started a pot of water to boil and began pre-cleaning instruments. "Have you known him all of his life?"

"Oh, yes," Cora said. "He was one of the first least un's I ever caught. I'll not forget it because he didn't even need a spank on the bottom to start hollering. Had somethin' to say right off."

"He's very easy to speak with," Shelagh said, wiping a scalpel. "I'm not used to doctors being so…friendly. Or…" Shelagh's cheeks pinkened as she fiddled with the cuff of her jacket, recalling the frays in Dr. Turner's clothing.

"You can say it, honey. He don't look put together. He's rough about the edges." Cora shook her head. "He wasn't always like that, but you know how men are when on their own."

Shelagh thought of her father, and the silence that took over their house after her mother's death. "I suppose. I'm interested in his providing medical care before the FNS was here. How he….managed. Manages. Even with another doctor now at Hyden Hospital, there's still so much work!"

"It weren't easy. Even now, hit ain't. But he's got a call to it, honey." She looked at Shelagh and nodded to the scattered instruments. "Like you."

"And you?"

"Law, if I weren't catchin' babies I'd be taking care of the sick and infirmed. Do that sometimes anyway. I just like to be needed. Old woman like me, on her own? What good am I fer?"

"I wouldn't have made it through this month without you, Cora."

Cora smiled. "You would. Yer a strong woman." She looked out at the approaching sunset. "That's the Lord tellin' me to stop my gums from flapping. You come to my cabin after yer rounds tomorrow and I'll tell you all you want to know about me, Dr Turner, and the people on this mountain." She washed her hands at the sink. "After all," she said, as she turned back around, "you're one of us now." Taking out her pipe, Cora shuffled out of the room and Shelagh heard her give her regards to Lisette.

Shelagh began placing instruments into the boiling water, thinking on Cora's words. She didn't feel like a Kentuckian, but the words were kindly meant and she took them in the spirit Cora had intended them. Setting a timer for the instrument wash, Shelagh went to get Lisette set for the night and to finish up her patient notes. The sky was alight with dark pinks and purples as Shelagh walked by the front door. She stopped and looked out over the valley. She was bone tired and ready for sleep, but still she stood at the window, watching as night came slowly to the valley that she, for now, called home.

Next morning, Shelagh saddled up for her rounds while Lisette stayed behind, cleaning instruments and keeping an eye out for any patient that might need assistance. In the event of an emergency she could ride for Shelagh, or even out to Hyden Hospital. Staffing clinics with only one nurse was a strain on everyone. The couriers allowed for the nurses to have freedom of movement and the peace of mind that they could be found if needed.

It was another cool morning, bright sunlight breaking through a morning mist as Shelagh began her ascent. On Wednesdays she generally saw to preventative health, though today her first stop was the Sutherland family, to check in on their newest arrival.

"Hello," she called softly from her perch on Mrs. B's back. A little face appeared from behind a heavy curtain at the window.

The front door opened. Mrs. Sutherland stood with a hand to her back. "Come in, Nurse! There's coffee set, if you've a mind to it!"

Shelagh took her midwifery bag inside, catching her breath in the warmth of the cabin. She accepted a cup of hot brew as she looked to the baby, who lay swaddled in the center of the bed she had been born in yesterday, sleeping contentedly. Mrs. Sutherland smiled fondly at the little one before looking at her brood. "Go on in the other room," she said, hastening them on. "Nurse is here for me and Lillian."

"Did you decide on Lillian?" Shelagh smiled down at the baby. She took a final drink and placed the cup on the table as Mrs. Sutherland directed. "What a lovely name!"

"It were my granmomma's name." Mrs. Sutherland began to unwrap the baby. "She's eating well already. Kept me awake most of the night. She's wet and shat…"

Shelagh smiled. "Her color looks fine; her umbilical stump, too." She spent a few moments testing the baby's reflexes before listening to her heart and lungs. "Absolutely perfect," she declared with a smile. "Bonny and sweet." She wrapped the baby back into a swaddle and handed her to her beaming mother. "Before we move onto your checks, I'd like to speak to you about health prevention. Have you seen any sign of hookworm, any fevers among the children?"

"No, ma'am. Them nurses dewormed the least 'uns las' year," Mrs. Sutherland said, holding Lillian close to her chest. "After that I told the least 'uns to keep their feet clean out there on the hills and to stay away from privies. It's better now that new ones have been put up."

"I understand," Shelagh said, standing to pull powders from her bag. She explained the administering of the agent and offered to do so that very day. "We'd like to keep all of the little ones worm free-I believe the new privies are helping us to accomplish that goal!"

"Last nurse said best to do it every spring, so go on ahead, while yer here."

"That'll be fine." Shelagh placed the powders on the table. "I'll proceed with your checks, and we'll see to the children from there?"

Mrs. Sutherland climbed onto the bed. "Law, if it means I get to get off my feet a moment, you do all the checks you need."

It was late afternoon by the time Shelagh made it to Cora's cabin. It was tucked back into a bend in the road, tidy and picturesque. Two rocking chairs sat under an awning off to the side of the cabin, and Shelagh frowned, thinking that Cora must sit alone most evenings, in silence.

She knocked on the door and Cora opened it with a grin, holding her broom in her hand. "Shelagh! Didn't think you'd be so early. Come on in." She looked at her, frowning. "Did you eat up on the trail? You look tired. Here…" she poured a glass of thick liquid and gestured Shelagh to a knobby chair at a small table.

"Thank you." Shelagh accepted the glass. "Buttermilk?"

"It'll stick to yer ribs." Cora moved around the small cabin with her broom. "What'd you want to know about yesterday? Me, the mountain. Dr. Turner. He's right different from others, ain't he?"

Shelagh turned her glass and watched the buttermilk slide toward the lip, before placing the glass back on the table. "He's unlike other doctors I've met. He—"

"Warshes his hands?" Cora slapped a hand against her thigh and laughed.

"Well, there is that," Shelagh agreed, hiding a smile by taking a sip of the thick buttermilk. "He's not so self-important or dismissive, like the doctors at home often were. He's very intelligent. Careful. Thorough, and kind with his patients."

Placing the broom by the door, Cora sat across from Shelagh and took the glass. "I thought this would fatten ya up a bit." Cora downed the buttermilk and wiped her mouth with the edge of her apron. "But I kin see that you don't care for it."

"Oh, no, Cora—" Shelagh tried to protest, but Cora only laughed and nodded toward the bucket of water on the counter.

"If you get thirsty, there's well water aplenty." Cora sat back against her chair and sighed. "It's good to rest a minute."

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from your chores."

"Not at all. I like the company, honey. And besides, I offered to tell you about the doc." Cora tapped her fingers on the rough wood of the table. "I've been knowing the Turners since I was girl, and my Daddy went way back with 'em. They were good people. My cousin Earla married one of them. Doc Turner's father's cousin, I think it was. Every year they'd have us out for hog butcherin', and it was a fine time."

"Community is important to farming families." Shelagh settled into her seat. "Did Dr. Turner work the farm as a boy?"

Cora laughed. "Law, honey. His Daddy had a time with him. He was a stern man, Mr. Turner. His family been farming here for generations and his sons was gon' to do the same. And the other three was fine farmers, good boys. But Dr. Turner couldn't seem to turn a plow, plant the corn, or pick a carrot. He'd complete his chores, there was no way round that, but Mr. Turner said that more often than not the boy would be found reading medical magazines in the hayloft. Where he got the magazines I can't reckon, but he always had his nose in one."

Shelagh remembered Dr. Turner saying that he was desperate for medical information. Desperate enough to join a midwife in her duties. She smiled faintly, thinking of her own childhood, and how she grabbed at any bit of medical knowledge presented to her. The nurses caring for her mother had witnessed her interest and introduced her to the Anglican nuns that would eventually become her family. Her heart squeezed as it did whenever she thought of her former sisters, and she looked back at Cora, noting the smile on her face.

Noticing Shelagh's stare, Cora spread her hands as if in apology. "I like rememberin' those days. Back when my Fount was still alive and we had our times together." She looked around the small cabin. "Now I'm just an old midwife, good for little more than encouraging a woman's huffin' and puffin'."

Shelagh reached out and touched Cora's hand. "That's not at all true, Cora. You've taught so many of us things that we might never have learned otherwise." She squeezed the older woman's hand. "And Dr. Turner told me that he thought you were the best midwife on the mountain."

Cora's smile returned. "Well, he'd best think so. I did learn him most all he knows! Imagine that, a young boy interested in women's work. I never thought I'd see the day, but he was a natural. Delivered his first baby just as soon as we could find a woman a-willin' to let him between her legs." Cora again slapped her thigh and laughed at Shelagh's wide-eyed and startled look.

"Did many women let him attend their births?" Shelagh tried to tamp down her blush.

"I think he was something of a novelty for them. They cooed over him and tried to ease his nerves stead of their own! One smile from him and they'd practically tie a ribbon into a pretty bow round the baby and hand it to him." Cora laughed. But her eyes darkened almost immediately. "That is, until Nettie Day."

Shelagh sat forward in her seat.

"I can see yer still interested." Cora sighed. "Nettie was a good girl, too young to be a momma. Her Daddy let her out of the house to marry at thirteen, even though the neighbors tried to make him see sense. She was too young. Hips too narrow. Dr. Turner brought me along with him, and we even ended up calling for one of the salve doctors down in Hyden. But it didn't make no difference. Nettie and her baby son died and it liked to eat both of us up, watching that little girl go."

"There was a young girl at the first clinic I attended, only a day after I arrived. At Hyden Hospital," Shelagh said, her head bowed slightly, almost as if she were about to pray. "She was maybe only fourteen. I noticed how gentle Dr. Turner was with her. He has a way with patients, but he was especially kind to her."

"He would be," Cora said, twisting her mouth in remembrance. "You know how it is to lose a woman and a baby. You never forget them, especially your first."

Shelagh nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "I do know. Eliza Brown and her twin daughters."

Cora smiled sadly, and reached again for Shelagh's hand. She squeezed it between her own worn fingers. "But that's why we keep on going. For the mothers and their daughters and sons."

"That is why I came to Kentucky. I wanted to make a difference with women who truly needed care. After I left the Order I was so unsure of where to go, or how to spend my time. All I knew is that I wanted to continue to nurse and to be a midwife."

"It's your callin', honey. And you can't ignore that." She held up a finger at Shelagh's glance. "And I know you had another callin' once. I thank you for taking me into your trust on it. But you know what they say about the Lord and his ways." She paused for a moment and then quoted, " _The heart of a man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his step_ ."

"Proverbs," Shelagh whispered. "I wonder if it was in His plan for me to come here. Or if I misread the signs and laid my plan over His."

"It's a right good thing that you're here to help us, Shelagh. We need you and the other nurses in these hills. Plenty of people up here claim to know medicine or doctorin', but they ain't lookin' for nothin' but to be paid. Until Mrs. Breckinridge came here and started to make changes we was all drowning in deaths and disease."

Shelagh smiled. "I've listened to Dr. Turner's thoughts on what he referred to as 'salve' doctors. The patients at Hyden like to listen to XERA on the radio and there's this "doctor", Dr. Brinkley?"

"Law," Cora laughed. "I already know which story yer fixin' to tell."

"Dr. Turner said that the man was a fraud who is grafting goat glands onto men to restore their…" Shelagh blushed.

"Their 'powers'," Cora said, with an eye roll. "A man will try anything to get that thing up."

"Cora!" Shelagh's cheeks were bright red.

"I'm sorry, but hit's true, honey. We're only lucky that Dr. Brinkley himself is down Mexico way. But we've done dealt with all manner of salve doctors in town. Selling 'restoratives' full of gasoline and sugar, and offering false hope to patients in need." Cora stood and walked to the washbucket, wetting her hands. "Why when Doctor Turner was away at medical school, and then again during the war, half the women on the mountain started seeing those frauds for their womanly complaints. Alva Cooley stuck something in an unmentionable area and hain't ever been the same since." She dried her hands on a towel. "It's just good that now we have real nurses and another doctor to work with Patrick… that is, Dr. Turner." Pulling down a covered jar, she looked to Shelagh. "I'm gon' fix us up a mess of greens and some cornbread."

"Oh," Shelagh said, looking out the window to the dimming light. "That would be lovely. Can I help you with anything, Cora?"

Cora nodded to a bowl. "You kin mix up the meal, while I get the grease good and hot."

Shelagh stirred the contents of the bowl as she watched Cora set about cooking a meal for them. She had been so welcomed by her new mentor, and the other nurses were friendly and competent when she saw them in passing or at Hospital. Yet, Shelagh still felt ill-at-ease, unsure at the path that took her from the religious life and brought her across the ocean to this foreign land.

The two year contract seemed to stretch before her as she continued to move the wooden spoon. When she had agreed to come to Kentucky it had seemed the answer to her simple prayer of _What now, Lord_ ? Two years in Kentucky as a nurse-midwife and she could return home, take work in any hospital of her choosing, and try to sort out her life. What had once seemed so set, and so right, was now already months behind her. This new life was exhilarating at times, and interesting almost always. Yet beyond Cora she had no confidant, no true friend, and she had trouble opening up to the other nurses, kind as they were. They seemed so much younger than she, though she knew her thought was unfair. They had their own trials and journeys that she was not privy to.

The patients she had worked with were not unlike the patients back home. She had been welcomed by most and had yet to meet with any true hostilities. In some places the Kentucky mountains looked so much like her first home that she could almost believe that her father could amble out of one of the cabins and greet her with a glad cry and a warm hug. It hardly seemed possible that he had been gone now for over ten years, and Mam for twenty-five.

Shelagh scraped at the edges of the bowl. "Would you like for me to fry these?"

Cora accepted the bowl. "I can do it right quick. You can get us each some water. The cups are behind the bucket."

Shelagh set to filling the cups and carried them to the table, sitting back down into her seat. Cora bustled at the little stove, flipping the bread. The room smelled of grease and cornmeal, and Shelagh let her mind wander, back over the thoughts she was pondering, and then back into her day, tracking back over the events of their Tuesday Clinic. Dr. Turner had been the most interesting revelation about Kentucky. Before they left from port Mrs. Breckinridge had discussed the charlatan salve doctors, rife in the mountains. Even the granny midwives working the area weren't all to be trusted. Some did little more than stick an axe or a pair of scissors under a bed to 'cut the pain', offering little in the way of care to laboring women but quick to take payment. Mrs. Breckinridge had known that physicians were needed to assist the new midwives, and though the bulk of the deliveries were made by midwife only, Dr. Turner, and Hyden Hospital's other doctor, Dr. Gratz, were invaluable assets.

For many years, and facing seemingly insurmountable odds, Dr. Turner and granny midwives like Cora had been the only ones to care for the women and children of the mountains. Now they had help, and a real chance to offer a type of care and public health works that could continue for long after Shelagh left for home, the granny midwives were gone, and Dr. Turner stopped practicing. It was good work. Needed work. In Kentucky she could again find her purpose and realize God's plan for her, hopefully setting her on the path toward her future.

...

Lisette opened the door to the clinic as Shelagh rode up. "There's an anxious father here," she said, stepping aside to allow the man to step through the door. "Hiram Polly."

"Ma'am," he said, twisting his hat in his coal darkened hands. "Janie's right nervous. I hied down here to find ya. Said yesterday our least 'un was doin' jus fine, but this day she ain't feeling it move proper. She's done in a tangle over it, Nurse."

"Oh, dear," Shelagh said, looking back to the mountain, already cloaked in darkness. "Let us go quickly."

"Yes'm." Taking up a lantern, Mr. Polly mounted his mule.

Shelagh looked back at Lisette with a nod before taking off up the trail with Mr. Polly.

Night creatures scattered through the underbrush as they passed, leaves and crunching under horse hooves in the cool of the early spring evening. Following the lantern's dim light, Shelagh asked, "Has Mrs. Polly experienced any pains?"

"No'm. I come in from the mine and found her on the bed, looking for all the world like she was dead and gone. I cried out to her and she answered something's wrong with the babe. I knowed I had to find ya. Our first one dyin' nearly ripped her in half. I can't bury the rest of her."

"You did exactly the right thing by coming for me, Mr. Polly. We'll get to your cabin, diagnose the problem, and make a plan." Shelagh thought of the strong heartbeat she had heard from the Polly baby only the day before, and hoped that the little one had not gotten into any distress.

There was a lamp lit in the cabin when they arrived, and a small fire in the fireplace. Shelagh was somewhat surprised to not see Cora darkening the doorway, holding a newborn in her arms. Cora was probably sleeping, however, lulled to dreams by her cornbread, buttermilk, and talk of the old days. Shelagh shook the thoughts from her head, stepping over the threshold. "Nurse calling. Mrs. Polly!"

Mrs Polly was prone on the bed. Shelagh turned to Mr. Polly. "Heat a kettle, quickly. I'm going to check her, but he ready to ride if I need further assistance."

Mr. Polly looked at his wife for a moment, unmoving. Shelagh opened her mouth to speak again, but he moved before she could, rattling with the kettle on the blackened stovetop.

"Mrs. Polly?" Shelagh placed a hand at her arm. "It's Nurse Mannion. Can you tell me what the problem is?" The woman sniffed, but didn't answer. "Mrs. Polly. I need to examine you and make sure baby is well."

Mrs. Polly buried her head in the pillow. "I think hit's dead," she whispered. "It'll be dead like my last 'un."

Shelagh's heart thudded. If the baby was indeed dead or in such distress that a surgical intervention was needed they would need to ride eight miles into Hyden. Sending up a quick, wordless prayer, Shelagh touched Mrs. Polly's arm again. "I know you're scared, but please, let me check. Babies get into all sorts of mischief but I must check you to know for sure."

"Janie…" Mr. Polly's quiet voice came from across the room. "Please."

Mrs. Polly sniffed, and turned, looking up at Shelagh with wide, haunted eyes. Shelagh pulled up Mrs. Polly's dress to expose her stomach. Taking her pinard from the bag, she placed it against the curved swell of abdomen. She listened closely, eyes closing in relief as she heard the heartbeat. "The baby's alive, Mrs. Polly."

Mrs. Polly gave a shuddering sob. "Hit ain't dead?"

"No, the heartbeat is still strong, though I'm unsure as to why there's a lack of movement. When did you notice that he was no longer moving?"

"This un's movin' all the time, Nurse. I don't get no sleep from being hot all the time and hit movin' and jiggin' all over." Mrs. Polly looked at her husband, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Right, Hiram?"

"That's so."

"But today I noticed that there were a few kicks, but no jiggin'. Then I didn't feel nothing and become scared."

Shelagh nodded. She rummaged in her bag, pulling out her soft measuring tape. "I'm going to measure you again, Mrs. Polly," she said, placing the tape against her stomach. "There's a chance that you're further along in your pregnancy than we first suspected. When babies grow larger, they have less room to move, and a mother feels less fetal movement." She measured and nodded, pulling the tape away. "I'm still reading 33 weeks, Mrs. Polly." She placed her hands against the lower abdomen, palpating the uterus. "I think there is still plenty of room for baby," she said, "and the head is not engaged." She turned to Mr. Polly. "I believe the well water would be nice and cold this time of evening, Mr. Polly. Sometimes a sip or two of cold water will wake baby from his snooze!"

Mr. Polly nodded, grabbing a pail. "I'll fetch it."

Mrs. Polly grabbed Shelagh's hand as her husband left. "What's gon' happen, Nurse?"

Shelagh squeezed Mrs. Polly's fingers. "You'll drink the water and we'll try to relax. We'll see if baby starts to move. If not, given your history, I think we should leave for Hyden Hospital."

Swallowing hard, Mrs. Polly nodded. "Thank you fer traipsin' up the mountain at night."

"Of course," Shelagh soothed. "You did just the right thing, Mrs. Polly."

Mr. Polly returned with the water, filling a cup for his wife. As he handed it to her their hands brushed and Shelagh looked away, feeling as if she were an intruder in that moment of loving comfort. Instead, she dug into her bag, pulling out a lamp and specimen jar to take urine after Mrs. Polly drank the water.

"My Granny always said a babe could see a light shinin' through the womb," Mrs Polly said, indicating the lamp. "Might could be the lantern light would wake hit up."

"A fetus can detect light and dark fairly early on," Shelagh mused. She took up a lantern and moved it around the uncovered stomach. The circle of light highlighted the tight skin and Shelagh watched closely for any sign of movement.

Mrs. Polly took another sip of water. "I can't believe hit can see-oh!" Her hand flew to her stomach. "Hit's moving!"

Shelagh placed her own hand on Mrs. Polly's stomach, grinning as she felt the baby stretch and then roll. She silently sent a prayer of thanks. "Hello, baby."

Choking out a sob, Mrs. Polly clutched her stomach. "I thought sure we's done for."

Mr. Polly cleared his throat and muttered that he was going to check on his mule and Shelagh's horse.

As he left the cabin, Shelagh smiled at Mrs. Polly. "As baby is moving I think that we're okay to keep you here for the night. I do want to check your urine before I leave. In the morning, I'm going to fetch Dr. Turner to visit and he'll make a determination on whether you should be in hospital."

"Yes'm. Anything for this least 'un."

Shelagh smiled. "Indeed."

After monitoring Mrs. Polly for another hour Shelagh took her leave, Mrs. B slowly picking her way down the dark mountain. It was gone midnight and the forest was foreboding in the dim light of her lantern. Several of the nurses had said that they would sing to themselves on the darkened trails, but Shelagh listened instead to the sounds of the mountain and Mrs. B's sure step. She thought of Mrs. Polly's tear-stained face and of the love she had witnessed between husband and wife. Above all, she thought of the baby's strong heartbeat and her desire to see him born.

In the morning she would send Lisette to fetch doctor. He would soothe Mrs. Polly and together they could make a plan for her continuing care. Nodding resolutely, Shelagh sagged in fatigue as she and Mrs. B stepped off of the trail, Beech Fork Center well in sight. A light was on in the window, beckoning her across the distance. Yet as she put up Mrs. B for the night she began to fear that sleep would not come easily to her, as Mrs. Polly's haunted face took its place in her mind each time she closed her eyes.


	4. Pretty Polly

_...such was my fear that you had veered very far from course. Now it seems that you have found a new calling in the mountains of America. I am reminded of the Psalm we once sang; _I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help._ You now are the help needed in that wild place. Upon reflection, I can see that it was, in fact, your path all along…. Cordially, Sr. Monica Joan_

Shelagh awakened to rain pounding on the roof. It was still dark and she turned, squinting at the clock as lightning illuminated the room. It was too early to wake, and she snuggled into the warmth of the blankets, willing her mind to rest. The bed was cozy, the warmth of the quilts protective against the deluge outside of the Center. She imagined the trees, bent in the wind, and the rising creeks, and buried her face a little farther into her pillow. And yet, sleep would not come. Her mind alighted on her patients: Mrs. Polly, awake with worries as she listened to the rain, Mrs. Sutherland, feeding her baby, a patient from clinic suffering severe morning sickness… Shelagh's mind cataloged and sorted each patient, seeking to make a plan for the dawn.

It was Thursday. Shelagh cast her mind back, trying to remember Dr. Turner's outpost clinic schedule as it had been posted at Hyden Hospital. Tuesday was Beech Fork, Wednesday had been… Red Bird, Thursday…. Was it Brutus Center? Shelagh's mind jumbled in the dark and she yawned and rolled, looking at the darkness, her eyes barely making out the shape of the window on the far wall. Still her mind worked through her morning plans. If Dr. Turner could not be easily located then perhaps Lisette could make haste for Hyden Hospital to seek further assistance. Again she pictured the doctor's schedule, trying to remember… He had been standing next to it, a smile on his face…

Shelagh awakened as her alarm rang. She slapped it, sitting up in the bed. The rain was a patter on the roof now, the sky still dark before dawn. She stretched, taking a moment to awaken tired muscles. It was almost a relief to wake, to set in motion the plan for Mrs. Polly. Standing from the bed, Shelagh began to dress, ready to wake Lisette so that the day could finally begin.

...

Shelagh saddled Mrs. B, the horse looking almost mournfully out into the rain. "I know," she said, patting the animal gently. "I don't want to be going out into it any more than you!" She reached into her pocket and removed a carrot. "Perhaps this will sweeten the pot?"

Mrs. B took the carrot, stamping her hoof twice. Shelagh laughed. "Is that a 'thank you'? If so," she said, looking into the horse's eye, "you're welcome." Mrs. B tossed her head, shaking her mane and Shelagh giggled, enchanted. "Let us go and meet our patients, B…" She mounted up, heading out into the rain.

The ruts in the path were filled with water and overhangs made spontaneous waterfalls as they ascended the trail. The rain was cold, but Shelagh snuggled into her jacket and wraps, the hot tea and warmth of home still clinging to her skin. She would begin her day with postpartum patients before making her way to the Pollys. Lisette planned to track down Dr. Turner and have him meet her at the Polly cabin before the noon hour. Veering off the main trail, she guided Mrs. B over a rush of water, the stream parallel to the path swollen from its banks. The canopy of trees did little to provide shelter from the rain, new buds only just sprouting after winter. The locals promised that the mountain would be lush in summer, as verdant as it was now bare.

The first cabin on her list was closed up tightly against the weather, shutters secured against the wind. Shelagh sheltered Mrs. B and tried not to slip in the mud soup in front of the rock stoop at the door. She knocked. "Mrs. Johnson? Nurse calling!"

"Lauriette! Nurse done here!"

The door opened, warmth spilling out as she stepped inside. She smiled at the elderly woman who admitted her. "Good morning, Mrs. Frost."

"Law, you's wetter than water. Let me take your wraps and hang them by the fire. It's Lord's aplenty hot in here. Lauriette likes to keep it that way on account of the least 'uns. It's her home so I don't complain."

"Of course not," Shelagh said, straightening her jacket and removing her hat. She looked toward the cradle. "How is the little one?"

"Sucklin' fat and happy, Nurse. Hit eats so much that Lauriette's sore as a boil, what with them teeth. I mixed her up some cream for them raw teats, but she said ye'd best look at it first." Mrs. Frost set a covered cup on the table. "Didn't mix no scent in. Might irritate 'er more."

"Indeed. What did you use in it?" Shelagh removed the cover and inspected the cream as Mrs. Frost listed the ingredients. "I think it'll work just fine, Mrs. Frost. It if can give her some relief I don't see why she shouldn't use it."

"Cora done said you had sense," Mrs. Frost said, recovering her cream. "I can see she was right. Lauriette's in the privy. Still bleeding like a stuck pig."

Shelagh nodded. "In that case, let me see to this one." She went to the cradle, smiling at the sleeping baby. "Shall I?"

Mrs. Frost nodded.

...

After leaving a smiling Lauriette Johnson, breasts attended to and breastfeeding advice given, Shelagh and Mrs. B continued through the cold rain to a small shanty, barely large enough for the family it contained. Holding her breath, Shelagh entered, managing to keep from wrinkling her nose at the stench in the air. "Good morning, Mrs. Lay," she said, removing her outer wrap. "How are you getting along?"

"Tolerable," Mrs. Lay croaked, switching her baby at her breast. "I kin see you're having a time." She indicated Shelagh's wet uniform. "Least you wiped yer boots afore you come in."

Shelagh strained to keep herself from looking at the piles of junk sitting around the room. According to the other nurses, Mrs. Lay's husband was convinced that he might be able to sell the items, yet nothing seemed ever to leave the cabin. More only came in. "I'm pleased to hear that you're doing well. The little one? Any trouble feeding?"

"Eats all the damn time, Nurse." Mrs. Lay laughed. "I would too if'n I could get a reliable meal."

Little eyes peered at Shelagh from around the room. She smiled at the children, but they didn't smile back. "Is there anything that I can do to help you, Mrs. Lay? We do have some provisions-"

"Hit ain't come to that, Nurse." Mrs. Lay stood from the table. "Best get on with it. Ray be home soon and don't like to see me in the bed if hit ain't dark."

Shelagh nodded. "We'll be finished in a jiffy."

...

The rain receded as Shelagh sheltered Mrs. B at the Polly cabin. Two dogs splashed through the mud, panting tongues indicating their friendliness as she stepped toward the door.

A horse whinnied behind her and she turned, smiling to see Dr. Turner's approach. She waited under the overhang of the barn, the dogs nudging at her legs.

Dr. Turner hello'd to her, sheltering his horse. He took a moment to pull his medical bag from the saddle before turning to smile at her. "Which is yours?" He gestured to the dogs, a smile tugging at his lips, rain dripping from his hat.

Shelagh wrinkled her brow. "Which-oh!" She laughed, remembering their conversation about the FNS advertisement and how she was yet to be the owner of a dog. "Neither, though this one," she indicated the dog nudging her leg, "seems quite keen!"

"Doesn't he?" Dr. Turner smiled at the dog. "Had one like it as a boy. He'd run everyone off from the cabin, friend or foe!"

"I never had a dog. There were some cats about, but never one that was mine."

"Well, I'll help you find that dog one day, Nurse." He gestured toward the house with his bag. "Lisette said that your patient was experiencing decreased fetal movement?"

"Yes, Doctor. Janie Polly, 22 years old; 33 weeks gestation. Her first was lost in the 8th month after preterm labor. This pregnancy appeared to be progressing normally, though her most recent urine tests have tested positive for elevated glucose. Last night, upon my arrival, I immediately found the fetal heartbeat and had some success with fetal movement after light and cold water tests. Her fundal height remains consistent with her dates."

Dr. Turner nodded. "There is an association between decreased fetal movement and poor fetal outcomes. The high glucose could be a sign of maternal diabetes, and the management of that will take precedence." He sighed, the thumb and forefinger of his right hand rubbing together at his side. "Let's hope the lack of movement was a one-off. After you," he said, relaxing his fingers and extending his arm for her to walk in front of him.

Mrs. Polly opened the door as they approached, throwing a few scraps into the yard for the dogs. "Sorry about them dogs, Nurse," she said in a rush. "They're hard to hold back oncet they git to runnin'."

"There was nothing to worry about, Mrs. Polly." Shelagh entered the warm cabin, chilled through as she was from the raw dampness of the day.

"Dr. Turner," Mrs. Polly said, reaching a hand out. "Might I take yer hat, sir?"

"Do you have a hook here?" He looked at the wall to the right of the door. "Ah," he said, placing his hat on it. "Is it fine there?"

"Oh, yes," she said, easing herself down on the bed. "Thank you for coming out to me. I purely hate to take you from yer duties."

"It's no trouble," Dr. Turner said, stepping further into the room. "We want to make sure that everything is healthy for you and your baby."

Shelagh placed her bag on the table. "How was baby overnight? Did you sleep a wink?"

"Hit's been movin', Nurse. Maybe not jiggin' like hit did but movin'." She placed a hand to her forehead. "I don't think I slept, but Hiram said I did a bit."

"He in the mines this morning?" Dr. Turner availed himself to the water Shelagh had poured into a bowl for them to wash.

"Yes, sir. Wanted to stay with me, but it can't be helped."

"No," Dr. Turner said in agreement. "I remember it well. Do you have anyone who can be here with you when Mr. Polly isn't?"

"My cousin done gon' sit with me, but she ain't come by yet, Doctor."

Shelagh finished washing her hands, drying them on a towel. "That's fine, Mrs. Polly. As you know, I've asked Doctor to be here this morning so that we can make a plan for you and the little one. I think we should begin with a thorough examination so that we will be better able to see what baby's been up to."

Mrs. Polly nodded, moving toward the bed as Shelagh gestured. "Hiram told me to rest today. I feel the baby movin' more when I'm prone."

"That's often the case," Shelagh said, unbuttoning Mrs. Polly's dress to expose her stomach. "Doctor is going to examine you and perform some of the same actions that I did just last night. It will allow him to make a better diagnosis."

"All right." She looked up at the doctor, eyes wide with fear. "We'll do whatever you say, Dr. Turner. I know you'll tell me plain."

"Yes, I will," he promised, smiling at Mrs. Polly. "Now," he said, looking at a large lard can sitting by the fire. "Would it be all right if I sat on that can? It'll help me to be closer for you examination."

A smile cracked over Mrs. Polly's face. "I'm sure hit ain't the first lard can you done sat on, Doctor!"

He grinned back. "What would we do without them? My Momma would set us all on them. Cheaper than a chair!" He laughed. "My brothers and I used to poke string through the small ones to make them into stilts." He pantomimed stepping high as if cans were attached to his feet.

Shelagh looked from Dr. Turner to the now smiling Mrs. Polly. A small smile edged up her lips as she fetched the lard can. "Here you are, Doctor."

"Thank you, Nurse Mannion." He sat and pulled his measuring tape from his bag. "I'm going to start by measuring you. I'm certain that Nurse Mannion has the correct height, but it can't hurt to check once more."

Shelagh nodded, smiling encouragingly at Mrs. Polly as they both watched Dr. Turner work. He measured and then palpated before taking his stethoscope and listening to baby's heartbeat. He nodded, hanging the instrument from his neck. "Baby's heartbeat is fine, Mrs. Polly. I hear no distress there. Sometimes a baby's movements can seem to lessen as a pregnancy progresses. There's less and less room for the least 'un to squirm!" His smile eased off into a contemplative gaze. "Have you experienced any bleeding? Cramps?"

"No," Mrs Polly said. "I hain't bled since I was caught."

"The lack of cramping and bleeding is a good sign. Have you felt the baby move in the past hour?"

"I thought I felt a little kick just after I eat some vittles."

Dr. Turner nodded. "Nurse Mannion told me that last night the baby moved after a drink of cold water and light was shined on you?"

"Yes. Hit rolled."

"Let's see if we can't recreate some of that." He looked toward Shelagh, already pouring water into a cup.

Shelagh handed the cup to Mrs. Polly, and Dr. Turner looked to his watch, placing a hand on Mrs. Polly's stomach. "If baby is sleeping we might have to wait awhile, but I am going to place my hands in different places on your belly to see if I can feel anything."

Mrs. Polly nodded, and they waited. After fifteen minutes passed, Dr. Turner removed his hand. "I felt a small nudge. Let's get you something to eat. You tell me if you feel any movement after that."

"The rest of my vittles are just there, Nurse," Mrs. Polly said, pointing to the table.

Shelagh fetched the plate, bringing it to Mrs. Polly. "I know it's probably a bit odd to have us watching you as you eat!"

With a nod, Mrs. Polly took a bite of cornbread. "Hiram don't know how to cook much," she said, holding up the slightly overdone bread. "But he can fry some cornbread now and again."

Dr. Turner laughed. "My son says that about the only thing I can make for him is fried bread."

As they waited for Mrs. Polly to finish her meal, they chatted about the weather until Mrs. Polly placed a hand to her stomach. "Here, Doctor!'

Placing his hand at the spot she had indicated, he felt the movement, his eyes narrowing as the movement slowed. A moment later there was a nudge just below his hand and he followed the movement. "That's an elbow," he murmured, watching the tight skin before him.

Mrs. Polly smiled before taking another bite. Over the next hour, Dr. Turner and Shelagh monitored the baby's movements, each taking a turn on the lard can at Mrs. Polly's side.

After the hour was finished, Dr. Turner looked to Mrs. Polly. "The baby is moving, though perhaps not as often as we would like. It may be due to baby's increasing size or to excess fluid in the womb. However, as you have suffered a preterm loss before, and you've had high urine sugar results, I believe that we should monitor you over to Hyden. How do you feel about that?"

"I want to go," Mrs. Polly blurted out. A tear ran out of her eye. "I was hoping you'd say that, Dr. Turner. Hiram wanted it, too. I can't sit in this cabin and-" she broke off, more tears rolling down her face.

Shelagh took Mrs. Polly's hand and squeezed. "There are many reasons that a baby might move less as a pregnancy progresses. If you're in hospital the nurses can monitor you and baby, just to be safe."

Dr. Turner nodded in agreement. "It doesn't necessarily have to be for the remainder of your pregnancy. If the nurses can ascertain a normal amount of fetal movement you might be back home in just a few days. I believe, though, that this is the best course of action, just to be safe." He stood from the can, taking it up to place back beside the fireplace. "I'll see you there daily, as well."

A knock came at the door. Mrs. Polly, buttoning her dress, called out a hello.

A slight woman bustled in, unwrapping a scarf from her head. "The rain's done stopped, but the wind is keen!" She looked up at Dr. Turner and Shelagh, nodding her head at them. "I'm glad to see the pair of you here. How's our Janie?"

"Said they're sending me to Hyden, Mary," Mrs. Polly said, wiping her face and looking around the cabin, eyes resting on the table and the dirty dishes piled there. "But I don't know who'll take care of Hiram."

"Don't you be worrying. Hi will be fine. You worry about that one there." Mary took up the dishes, placing them in a washing tub.

Mrs. Polly placed a hand to her stomach. "He's all I think about."

Dr. Turner looked to Shelagh. "Might I speak with you, Nurse?"

Shelagh nodded, moving toward the fireplace where he stood. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I was thinking that instead of sending a courier up here that we might accompany her to Hyden. I'm not so sure she would be comfortable riding with only me, and the sooner we get her monitored, the better."

"I agree. I do have other patients on the trail, but I can have Lisette ride to find if any need immediate assistance. Otherwise, I can see them tomorrow or over the next few days to make up the difference."

"I don't wish to make more work for you. You nurses are swamped already."

"I'll manage. I always do. Besides," Shelagh said, looking back to Mrs. Polly. "She's my patient." She looked back to find Dr. Turner smiling at her.

Something in his smile and nod made Shelagh feel as if he understood.

...

Hyden Hospital stood on Thousandsticks Mountain, just above the town of Hyden. A heavy fog obscured the few bare trees that stood to the back of the building. The front seemed unfinished; not yet softened with flowers or bushes in bloom. The ground at the step was muddy and pockmarked with puddles of standing water from the day's rains. All the same, Mrs. Polly sighed and said, "Thank the good Lord," at the sight of the building, and privately Shelagh offered up her own prayer of thanks. The sky had darkened and rain had started again before they had barely cleared the mountain trail, following them over the slow eight-mile trek. Mrs. Polly kept well to her mule yet Shelagh's mind had been only on the stress that the ride might be causing both mother and baby. It was a relief to hand the bridles over to the young couriers who pushed from the front door to splash through the muck. Dr. Turner took hold of Mrs. Polly's arm and small suitcase, helping her across the slippery mess. Seeing his bag still slung over his horse, Shelagh stopped the courier and took it in hand, carrying it and her own bags to gingerly step over the mud and onto the porch.

The warmth of the entrance hall shocked her as she removed her soaked wrap and overcoat. Her glasses were wet and fogged over. She placed Dr. Turner's bag on the floor to discreetly wipe her glasses with her slightly damp handkerchief. Her fingers were sore and cold as she removed her gloves, and she moved them to stimulate blood flow. Mrs. Polly was looking around at the stone walls, leaning heavily against Dr. Turner. Shelagh started to move forward when a nurse dressed in hospital whites approached the front desk. "Goodness me," she said, looking at the trio. "An admittance, Doctor?"

"Yes," he said, steading Mrs. Polly. "Thank you, Nurse Parrish. This is one of Nurse Mannion's patients, Janie Polly. I'd like to admit her for observation and fetal monitoring. Perhaps you could see to getting her settled before we see to the intake form?"

"Of course, Doctor." Nurse Parrish stepped forward, taking Mrs. Polly's arm. "You look as if you brought the rain with you," she said, accepting Mrs. Polly's bag from Dr. Turner. "Let's see if we can't find you something dry and warm to change into…"

Watching Nurse Parrish walk Mrs. Polly toward the ward, Shelagh turned to the doctor as he blew out a relieved breath. "The last mile was the hardest," she said, thinking back to the drenching rain that had soaked them on their approach to Hyden.

Dr. Turner pulled his hat from his head. "I'm sure the rain will stop now that we're here." His lips edged up on one side. "Nurse Parrish will be a right moment settling Mrs. Polly. I'm sure you could avail yourself to the Nurses Quarters. I'll be on the ward with Mrs Polly to prepare a plan of care once I wring out this hat."

Shelagh smiled. "One of the patients said that I was 'wetter than water' this morning. She was right!" Another nurse passed them on her way to the laundry. Shelagh looked to the doctor. "I'll clean up and look to the form. Thank you for your assistance today, Doctor." She started to walk away, startled to nudge his medical bag with her foot. "Oh!" Her face flushed as picked up the bag and held it out to him. "I thought you might want this and brought it inside."

He smiled, taking the heavy case from her. "Thank you, Nurse Mannion." He nodded with another smile and turned to leave, boots heavy in the quiet hall.

Shelagh watched him go before turning to the opposite hall, toward the Nurses Quarters. Her stomach growled and she looked at her watch, not surprised that it was gone four in the afternoon. She hadn't felt the hunger for the sting of the rain while bringing her patient in, but now she felt uncomfortable and cold in the damp clothing and longed for a hot meal and an even hotter bath. She cleaned up as best she could, toweling dry and combing her hair and borrowing a dry uniform jacket from a sympathetic Nurse Barron, who immediately hung the soaked jacket to dry. Nurse Barron also offered leftover soup to Shelagh, who responded eagerly, heating the meal on the nurses' cookstove. The warm, hearty soup fortified her and she thanked Nurse Barron as the other nurse went to bed after a long shift. Closing the door to the nurses' quarters, Shelagh smiled to see Nurse Parrish manning the intake table once more.

"How is Mrs. Polly? We had quite the ride in."

Nurse Parrish stuck a pencil behind her ear. "She's settled, poor thing. I believe she's worn out from worry more so than the trek from Beech Fork."

"Quite. Dr. Turner felt that hospital was the best place for her. I only hope the news will be good." Shelagh drummed her fingers on the counter and looked out the window at the grey, foreboding sky. "I'll check on Mrs. Polly before beginning my ride home. I've been rained on all day long. I suppose that I can handle a few more drops!"

Giggling, Nurse Parrish shuffled a pile of papers into a folder. "You looked half-drowned when I turned the corner. Dr. Turner's hat was as long as his face!"

Shelagh bristled slightly at the comparison. "It's been a trying day."

Unaware of Shelagh's annoyance, Nurse Parrish gestured toward the window. "The rain makes me homesick. My Mum used to turn us out in rubbers and slickers to play in it." The nurse looked to Shelagh's damp uniform. "I daresay it's not as fun when you haveto be out in it!" She took her pencil from her ear, tapping it against the desk and rolling it between her fingers. "Before I forget, I'll be at Beech Fork next week for your clinic. Mrs. Breckinridge has decided that, as only one nurse is now at each clinic, that a 'floating nurse' should lend a hand when possible. I start at Brutus on Monday, and that puts me at Beech Fork on Tuesday."

"Wonderful!" Shelagh's spirits lightened. "Between Dr. Turner, Cora, Lisette, and myself we managed last clinic day, but another pair of skilled hands is always welcome."

"Cora's still coming to every clinic, then?" Nurse Parrish rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "She's a deft hand, but all that pipe smoke!"

"It's so thick in some cabins that one can barely breathe!" Shelagh shook her head, looking at the ward door and then at her wristwatch. "Has Dr. Turner gone through? I'd like to go ahead and check on Mrs. Polly."

"He has. Go on through. We've a packed house this evening-every bed taken!"

"Busy night! I'm certain my clinic will be just as packed on Tuesday. We'll see you there." Shelagh smiled her thanks as Nurse Parrish made a face before smiling back in a gesture of farewell.

Inside the ward the twelve beds were indeed filled, several patients dozing and others chatting, a light din in the air as Shelagh walked past a few drawn curtains to find Mrs. Polly situated in a far bed, near the nurse's station. Dr. Turner stood with a chart in his hand, filling out some notes. His hair was slicked back and his white coat was dry over his damp clothing. Mrs. Polly smiled as she noticed Shelagh, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hello, Mrs. Polly," Shelagh said, reaching the bed and nodding to the doctor. "Have you settled in well? Is there anything I can be getting for you?"

"Well, not now, thank ya, Nurse Mannion." Mrs. Polly's hands draped her stomach. "Hit moved just a moment ago, but now I'm just gon' be sittin' here, waiting on hit to let me know hit's alive."

"We'll be monitoring you, Mrs. Polly." Dr. Turner looked up from his notes, passing the clipboard to Shelagh. "I've requested that we start with the nurse on call checking for fetal movement and heart rate every hour. I'd also like it if you might help us out, too."

Mrs. Polly looked at Dr. Turner. "Me?"

"Let us know if you notice any patterns of movement. Is he more likely to move after you've walked the ward? Or after you've eaten?" Dr. Turner looked at Shelagh over Mrs. Polly's head before looking back to smile kindly at the young patient. "I know you're right scared, Mrs. Polly. But we'll see you through."

"Thank you, Doctor Turner. Yer one of the good'ns."

Dr. Turner nodded his thanks and smiled at Shelagh and Mrs. Polly before moving on to the next bed, speaking in low tones with the patient. Shelagh looked to Mrs. Polly. "I'll ride out to check on you in a few days. If you have need of me before then, ask Dr. Turner or one of the nurses. I'll ride over. Will Mr. Polly be able to visit?"

"I reckon. Tomorrow, hit might be." Mrs. Polly reached for Shelagh's hand, squeezing her fingers lightly before letting go. "Thank ya, Nurse Mannion. Now we're here, we got a chance."

On the ride back to Beech Fork, Shelagh lifted up a prayer for Mrs. Polly and her unborn child, beseeching the Lord, in His wisdom, to carry the mother through. She lifted each of her patients before the Lord, finishing her prayer with an intercession on behalf of Dr. Turner, that he may help her to ease Mrs. Polly and her family through whatever trial or jubilation that may come next.

* * *

a/n: The lard can stilts are my homage to Ramona Quimby and her tuna can stilts. :)


	5. Single Girl, Married Girl

_...doing well, and can hardly believe myself that it's been so many months since I left for America. In answer to your questions, there are two doctors at Hyden Hospital, both fine physicians. Doctor Turner presides over my clinic on Tuesdays and is a deft and caring hand with all, but especially the children. As to the nurses, there are several, all committed to this worthy cause. Even as we make shift, I feel blessed to be part of such a community. It is not unlike the one I left in the East End... Yours Faithfully, Shelagh_

The rain cleared as the week ended, and by Friday Shelagh was happy to step out into a warm morning, the sun bright in a clear blue sky. Mrs. B was eager to be let out of her stall, the scent of the wind and the warmth seeming to beckon her. Shelagh felt the same call and together they climbed the trail, Mrs. B forging ahead as Shelagh recalled each patient due to be seen that morning. The Smith cabin was first on her list, further out than any other family she visited. The trail broke off before reaching the remote homestead, and Shelagh followed a worn footpath, Mrs. B carefully picking through the rough terrain. Outside of the cabin Shelagh hitched Mrs. B to a fencepost, pulling her midwifery bag from the horse's back.

"I'll see to yer horse, ma'am."

Shelagh looked down at a skinny slip of a boy who kicked his feet in the dust path leading to the cabin's front door. "Thank you," she said, smiling at his kindness. "Is your mother just inside...?"

"Jack," he answered, before shaking his head. "No'm. Momma done walked down to the creek. Said she felt fer too hot after cooking some vittles, carryin' as she is. She set me to lookin' fer ya. Said you'd have a uniform and everything." He eyed her clothing with what seemed to be pity. "It's not what I thought it'd be. But yer horse sure is nice."

Shelagh tried to keep her lips from twitching. "Thank you. She really is a nice horse. But she's sneaky. Be careful when you water and feed her." The boy grinned and went to gently pat Mrs. B. Shelagh looked into the darkened cabin. She could well imagine an expectant mother would rather be in the cool shade near the creek than inside the stuffy, hot cabin. She caught Jack's eye and nodded down the path, toward a stand of trees. "Is the creek over through there?"

"'Tis. Just walk till you see my Momma and sisters. You can't miss 'em. Are you aimin' to examine her down there?"

"Oh," Shelagh said, trying to hold back a laugh. "No, I couldn't examine her there! I'm sure I'll bring her back to the cabin, Jack. Thank you for pointing me-oh, hello there," Shelagh said, to another little boy who ambled up to them on the dusty walk.

The boy greeted her with a grin. "I've come to play with Jack, if his chores are finished." He eyed Shelagh more closely. "You must be new. Your uniform is still very neat."

"My uniform is neat?"

Jack slung his arm around the other boy's shoulders. "You oughta know this 'un, nurse ma'am. He be knowing all the nurses."

"Not this one. Not yet," the boy said to Jack, before turning to Shelagh and sticking out his hand. "Timothy Turner. Pleased to meet ya."

Shelagh grinned, taking his hand. "Timothy! This is a surprise. Your father speaks of you often."

Tim dropped her hand with a mischievous smile. "Is that good or bad, Nurse?"

Shelagh couldn't stop a laugh. "Your father is very proud of you. He says only good things! All true, I'm certain."

Jack hid a snort in a laugh. "Come on, Tim-"

"Hi-dee!" Jack's mother, Mrs. Smith, cut into the conversation, moving slowly up the path. "Y'all children clear out. Nurse Mannion done come to see me."

Jack and Tim ran over to Mrs. B, who whinnied, nudging at Tim's shoulder. "Hello, Bailey B," Tim said, gently touching her nose.

Shelagh shared a smile with Mrs. Smith. "How are you feeling today?"

Mrs. Smith walked toward the cabin door. "Hot. This weather done changed with this warm wind. Course, I was hot when it was rainin', too." Inside the darkened cabin she settled herself on to the bed with a sigh. "There's Lord's aplenty to do afore this one gets here. I'd just as soon git it over with."

Placing her bag on the table, Shelagh took out a pan to wash her hands. "Let's see what little one is up to, shall we?"

After what Shelagh termed an 'unrewardingly normal' checkup, Mrs. Smith called in her eldest daughters to help her to prepare the noon meal. As Shelagh placed her bags back onto Mrs. B's back, she looked at the horse, thinking of how Timothy had referred to her as "Bailey B". He must have known the horse now for many years, just as he knew the other nurses and midwives. He looked very much like his father, skinny and angular, with the same dark hair. It was nice to put a face with the stories she had heard of the boy. As she readied to mount the horse's back she heard laughter just beyond the cabin, toward the creek. She turned to see Jack, Tim, and Jack's younger sisters running after a butterfly, laughing and yelling as they tried to catch it.

They ran up the path toward her, and she held out her hand to stop the children from running into Mrs. B. The butterfly landed softly on her finger. Holding her breath, she realized the children were silent as the insect opened and closed its crimson wings before taking flight again.

"How'd you do that?" Jack's mouth was open wide. "I never done that."

"You're more like to step on one, Jack Tobias," one of the little sisters huffed.

Another little blonde grinned at Shelagh. "Was that the first butterfly you done seed this spring, Nurse ma'am?"

"It was," Shelagh answered.

"Then you'll soon have a purty new dress the color of them wings!"

The little girls started running again, but Timothy and Jack stayed by Shelagh. "That was an Anaea andria Scudder," Timothy said.

"A goatweed leafwing," Jack clarified. "We done read that other name in a book! Wanna see?"

Tim nodded. "My Dad brung it to me from Louisville. It's got all sorts of butterflies in it."

"I'd like that very much." Shelagh smiled. "I'd never seen a butterfly like it! It looked almost like an autumn leaf."

"It's how they hide from those that'll eat 'em up!" Jack sounded delighted at the prospect. "Come on, the book's down to the creek."

Shelagh looked at her wristwatch. "For a few moments, then."

The little girls were singing a song about a group of pigs and enthusiastically falling down as Shelagh followed the boys to the creek. The sun cut through the small stand of trees and the water glittered invitingly, flowing over a pebbled bottom. The book sat on a rock, and Timothy picked it up, turning pages.

"Here it is, Nurse Mannion." He handed her the book, grinning. "Might be that you'll see more of them now that spring's coming on."

Shelagh read over the entry on the insect. "I've yet to see a butterfly on my travels, but even if I did, I'm not certain I'd have the time to stop and look at it very closely before it fluttered away!"

"My Dad never has time either," Timothy said, looking to Jack who had jumped out onto a flat rock sticking out of the water. "He's run from pillar to post all day long. Always someone in need."

"Indeed," Shelagh said gently. "Your Dad does wonderful and very needed work." Not wanting to overstep any boundaries, Shelagh smiled. "I'm sure he'd be very happy to know how much you love your book!"

"Sometimes we read it together when he comes up to sup."

Before Shelagh could respond, Jack hopped to another rock. "Tim! There's a huge crawdad just ready to eat my toes!"

Timothy jumped immediately to the rock Jack had vacated. "Look at 'im!" He looked at Shelagh with a bright grin. "Do ya want to see?"

Enchanted by the tableau, Shelagh walked from the muddy bank and into the creek, her boots more than enough barrier between her and the muck. "I don't believe I've ever seen a crawdad. Where is he?"

...

Shelagh waved at the boys as she and Mrs. B started the long trek back to the trail. She smiled in remembrance of their lively chatter, thinking to tell Dr. Turner how much she enjoyed her time with his young son and with Jack. Timothy's comment about Dr. Turner being torn between his job and Timothy gave her pause. She felt almost guilty for spending time with Timothy, seeing the joy on his face as they spoke about butterflies and crawdads. A corner of her mind wondered if Dr. Turner ever waded out into a creek with his son, but she shut off the train of thought before she could ponder it much further. Dr. Turner and Timothy's private life was their own affair. She had only passing knowledge of the youngster, though he did seem to be very dear.

As she and Mrs. B emerged out onto the trail, they passed a logger who tipped his hat before hurrying down the path. From Beech Fork the mountain seemed so still and quiet, but on the trails one found more than they could ever really imagine. Kentucky had been little more than a fantasy to her as she had written to Mary Breckinridge from her lodgings in London. The books she read couldn't have readied her for the reality of mountain living. Not even the information pamphlets and meeting with Mrs. Breckinridge had readied her for this new reality. In many ways the work was the same as it had been in Poplar. Women seemed to hold the same joys and fears when it came to childbirth. The outer trappings were different and though there had been poverty in Poplar it wasn't as abject as it was in the Kentucky mountains.

She was finding her feet in this place. Making friends, earning the trust of patients, and relying on her instincts were all thrilling, if daunting, tasks. As in Poplar her blue uniform denoted her status to patients, though the sky blue trouser suit seemed far different than the dark blue woolen habit that she had once worn. And yet, it was another utilitarian livery, one that allowed her to blend in with a crowd of like-minded individuals. The uniform kept her apart from the people of Beech Fork, the women who frequented clinic and their children. Once more she was among a community but held apart from it, too, and a piece of her was glad for the separation. It would make it easier to go back home once her contract ended. The thought of London and beginning life anew once more was disconcerting as Shelagh and Mrs. B picked through the rocky Kentucky trail, and Shelagh shook her head to dislodge the disorderly thoughts. Splaying her hand against Mrs. B's neck, she rubbed the warm hide of the animal, looking up into the swaying and just budding branches above. She breathed in deeply, anchoring herself to the horse, the mountain, the work.

The next cabin on her daily rounds was empty. Shelagh frowned, glancing at her watch. Just gone the noon hour, she thought that the family should be home. She knocked and received no answer. Only two weeks before she had visited with the woman of the house, offering advice on morning sickness and fatigue. "I'll try again tomorrow, Mrs. B," she said, mounting the horse once more.

Further down the trail she stopped at a curved tree, sitting against it to eat a small lunch while Mrs. B enjoyed her own. It was quiet with only the warm wind blowing. Shelagh took a notebook from her jacket pocket, flipping it open to record notes on Mrs. Smith and the empty McMillian cabin. The next home on her daily rounds was the Slone cabin. Mrs. Sloan was an old hand at childbirth, currently expecting her fifteenth birth. "Law," she'd said, the first time Shelagh rode in, "if I can't give birth to this one by now, I'm not good for spit!" Still, she had been willing to listen to Shelagh's advice, peppering in advice on how Shelagh could win over other families. "Listen to 'em. If they feel you heerd 'em they'll done listen to you, honey."

Shelagh thought of Mrs. Polly's fears, Mrs. Sutherland's labor, Cora's assistance, and Dr. Turner's professionalism. She was learning much of the way of the mountain people through trial and error and in being willing to hear their stories. Taking a moment for a small prayer, she headed off on Mrs. B's back, ready again to listen.

...

Next Tuesday the line of women and children outside of Beech Fork's door was even longer than the week before, the warm weather encouraging more families down from the mountain and up from the river. Some women had brought blankets and picnic lunches and children ran around the trees and field, their chatter and laughter a backdrop to the bustle of clinic. Lisette efficiently checked in and directed patients, and Nurse Parrish was more than welcome, two nurses shortening wait times considerably as they waited for Dr. Turner's arrival. He had been involved with an unexpected breech as Nurse Parrish had left Hyden Hospital, though she reported that he still expected to make it to the outpost before the end of clinic.

Shelagh took her clipboard to the waiting room, calling for her next patient. Pregnant, the patient stood with some difficulty, blowing out a breath as she gained her feet. "It's about time you lot called me back," she huffed. "Been waitin' near all day."

Looking out at the morning sun, Shelagh bit her tongue. "I apologize for the wait, Mrs. Maitland. In here, please." She gestured to her small working area, closing the curtain as she stepped in with the patient. "How are you feeling today?"

"Like hell." Mrs. Maitland eased onto the examination bed. "From here on out you kin come to my cabin like you do them hoity toity women."

Biting her tongue harder, Shelagh set down the clipboard. "Home visits are for those who cannot make it to clinic, Mrs. Maitland, or for those far enough along that we must visit weekly or every two weeks. Let's be examining you to see how you're progressing. You're probably right at the cusp of two-week visitations."

Mrs. Maitland sniffed and crossed her arms. "You know how to get to my cabin? I'm up there near that Cora Tucker. I knowed for some time you buddied up with her. Keeps runnin' her mouth, don't she?"

"Mrs. Maitland, I'm sure that I can find your cabin or that Cora can direct me." Mrs. Maitland's cheeks reddened slightly. "Now, can you tell me what you mean when you say that you feel so poorly?"

As usual, the titter of the women first alerted her to his presence. Dr. Turner pushed through the Clinic's door just after the nooning hour, tie askew, beads of sweat on his brow. "Hello, ladies," he said absently, moving through the crowd and nodding at Lisette and Cora. Shelagh looked up from the baby she was weighing, watching as he walked into the kitchen to wash his hands.

"He runs all over the county, don't he?" The young mother held her arms out for her baby. "My Pappy said he always been that way. Never could set still."

Shelagh's cheeks flushed. "That's part of what makes him quite the doctor."

"I always liked him. Used to give us least 'uns candy for Christmas. His wife sure were nice, too. Real lovin' with one another and with their boy. A pure shame, her dyin' like that, leaving them two to fend for themselves. And you know how men are without a woman. Don't think he had any idea of how to raise that boy." She shook her head. "A damn shame."

With a polite nod, Shelagh gave the baby's weight, attempting to change the subject. "It would seem that Alice is eating and gaining weight just as she should. You're doing wonderfully with her."

"Thank you, Nurse. She's been better 'an gold."

Shelagh smiled as the mother walked away, the baby's bright blue eyes watching over her mother's shoulders. Cora had her hands on her knees, leading the youngest children in a song about an old hen, the children imitating her crackly voice. Nurse Parrish disappeared behind a curtain with a patient and Shelagh moved toward the kitchen to boil urine for sugar testing. Opening the tap to wash her hands, she looked out through the kitchen hatch at a child's delighted laugh. Sitting with a young child at the vaccination table, Dr. Turner was holding a tongue depressor, dancing it around. She smiled at the delight in the little boy's eyes, but as Dr. Turner placed the depressor on the table and reached for the needle, the boy's eyes closed and he pressed backward into his mother.

"I'll jus' hold his arm for ya, Doctor," the mother said, looking frustrated.

Dr. Turner shook his head. "Let me try this, Mrs. Bell." He took a pen from his coat pocket and marked on the tongue depressor. "This is for you, Benny," he said, holding the wooden stick out to the boy. "What do you think of him?" He tilted his head with a smile for the youngster.

The little boy looked at the stick, grinning at it. Mrs. Bell admired the depressor. "Eyes, nose, and mouth. Yer own little stick-man. Look, Benny!" Her eyes met Dr. Turner's as she spoke and he quickly gave the injection to Benny, who flinched slightly but held tightly to his stick.

A bandage was placed on the boy's arm and Benny and Mrs. Bell stood to leave. Shelagh released a breath, her heart pounding in her ears as she seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the doctor. He sat now in profile, filling out Benny's vaccination record. As if seeing him for the first time, she noticed the line of his jaw, the curve of his lip, and the dark hair that spilled over his forehead as he worked.

The children singing with Cora burst into laughter and Shelagh colored, the moment broken. The sink water ran cold over her hands. Snatching them back, she hurriedly closed the tap and dried her hands on a clean flannel. She turned and picked up a spirit lamp, swallowing hard as she became intent once more on her task, denying herself one last look out of the hatch.

There was work to be done. Pushing all other thoughts from her mind, she set about doing it.

Dr. Turner apologized as he left clinic early. He was needed at a cabin on Greasy Creek to look in on a widow, heavy in her ninth month of pregnancy, suffering from pleurisy after a bout of spring flu. Shelagh watched the door close behind him before turning to the patients left in the waiting room. She called to a young mother who nodded with a distracted smile, picking up her youngest while warning the older children to behave. The children didn't seem to notice, too busy playing at stacking and knocking down wooden blocks. Cora smiled at the woman as she and Shelagh entered their curtain.

"Jus' soon as yer done there I'll flip on the radio set, Mol'," she said with a grin. "It's almost time to hear them Carters. I do purely love 'em."

"Oh, I do too," the young patient said, placing her baby on the examination bed. "I hear Single Girl, Married Girl and I could just weep over it'tall."

Shelagh twisted her mouth sympathetically. "I'm afraid I don't know that song, Mrs. Ellis."

"Don't ya? I reckon you haven't had time to listen to no music, busy as you be." Mrs. Ellis shook her head. "Jus' listen. It'll be sure to be played today. Mrs. Carter done said so last week. All the women write in, jus' for that one. I would, too, if I could write." She ran a hand over the baby's scalp as he began to fuss. "And if Randall'd let me."

Shelagh smiled, trying to cheer the patient. "I'll be sure to listen, then. How is baby today?"

Cora flipped on the radio, turning the dial until the station picked up out of the noise. The women in the waiting room paused in gathering their children and belongings, some humming along to the sound of Sara Carter's haunting voice. "She tells it like it sure is," one woman murmured, swaying back and forth with her daughter. "I wished we could get a radio for up home. I almost wouldn't mind doing the warsh if I could listen to this all day while a-doing it!"

The other women laughed, one crowing that it would be a pure difference from singing her own songs to break the loneliness. Shelagh smiled at the chatter, beginning to pull trays toward the sink for a pre-wash. She set large pots of water onto the stove to boil, enjoying the music and talk that filled the center.

Nurse Parrish came in and started on a tray, shaking her head conspiratorially toward Shelagh as the women in the outer room began debating over which song should play next. "I don't know about you, Shelagh, but most of those songs sound the same to me! It wasn't what we were listening to back home!"

Shelagh thought of plainsong and the way her voice used to rise with her Sisters' in supplication. "No," she said, placing syringes into a pile, "it's not." She cleaned a scalpel carefully. "Molly Ellis mentioned a song that she wanted me to listen for in today's broadcast. She said that the song makes her want to shed tears."

Nurse Parrish looked out into the crowd, nodding her head toward Molly. "The redhead?"

"That's her. Twenty-one years old and five children already!" Shelagh picked up another instrument to clean, stopping herself before she could say more. Molly Ellis's husband seemed decent, though the comment on being allowed to write a letter bothered Shelagh.

"It seems most of these women are old before their time," Nurse Parrish agreed with a small shake of her head. "One patient at Red Bird is barely fifteen and nearing her ninth month."

"How old is the father?"

"Sixteen. I delivered his baby sister two weeks ago."

Shelagh looked out into the waiting room once more. "It is a hard life."

Nurse Parrish didn't comment further as they both pre-cleaned the instruments before placing them into the boiling pots. Lost in her own thoughts, Shelagh noticed the women had gone quiet. She concentrated on the words of the plaintive song that played:

_Single girl, oh single girl_

_She goes to the store and buys_

_Oh goes to the store and buys_

_Married girl, oh, married girl_

_She rocks the cradle and cries_

Shelagh's eyes instinctively sought out Molly Ellis. She stood at the door, squalling baby in one arm and her small children gathered around in a huddle. As Mrs. Ellis pushed the door open, she ran the back of her hand under her eye.

Stomach clenched, Shelagh walked out into the waiting room just as the song's final verse faded away. She flipped the switch and turned it off, smiling at the women and nodding goodbyes as they left for the long journey home, another Tuesday clinic concluded.


	6. Little Mountain Church House

_...the hospital is accessible via riding and walking paths and also by a steep staircase built into the hillside. It is as modern as our rural location allows, housing the only autoclave in FNS possession. The lights often flicker, however, when the autoclave cycles. I made mention in my last letter of the doctors and nurses who work so assiduously, but realize that I did not tell you of Hyden Hospital's most infamous resident - October the Cow..._

Wiping at the line of sweat on her brow, Shelagh led Mrs. B into a stall. She removed her bags, heavy with instruments, and set about caring for Mrs. B, patting the horse gently as she left the stall. A patient rode side-saddle on a mule as Shelagh exited the barn, shading her eyes to wave at the beaming new mother and the father who grinned even as he led the mule down the side of the rocky hill. At the entrance to Hyden Hospital Shelagh laughed as she squeezed by a cow standing at the steps. She looked to the young man at the hospital door who was sheepishly hiding a hand behind his back. "Henry, are you feeding October tea cakes?"

Henry's eyes widened. "No, ma'am!" He faltered under Shelagh's amusement. "It's pie crust," he said, bringing his hand out from behind his back. "She done eat her tea cakes with Mac today."

"It's little wonder she puts out so much milk with treats like pie and cake awaiting her!" Shelagh laughed at the pair as she dashed inside. October was known for her milking prowess, keeping all patients in a plentiful supply. The nurses and Henry spoiled her, October following them around as a dutiful pet. Looking out of the hospital doors she could see October turning to walk after Henry, no doubt hoping for another treat. Shaking her head with a small smile, she walked toward the preparation room, a bag of instruments ready for the autoclave. Boiling the instruments as they did multiple times a day at Beech Fork and on home visits was a perfectly efficient method of sterilization, but Shelagh never turned down a chance to use the autoclave. Coming into Hyden to check on Mrs. Polly gave her just the opportunity.

She stopped abruptly as she entered the room, eyes wide as she took notice of Dr. Turner removing instruments from the machine. He looked up as he heard her enter, and a smile spread across his face. "Oh, Nurse Mannion. It's nice to see you here in Hyden."

"Dr. Turner. Greetings." Shelagh looked out into the corridor. "Shall I come back?"

"Not at all. I'm almost finished here." He picked a pair of clamps from the autoclave, looking at her with a smile. "I've been meaning to say, you made quite an impression on my boy."

Shelagh smiled, thinking back to her afternoon with Timothy and Jack. "It was lovely to meet him."

"When I went out to my brother's to have supper with Timothy, you were the only thing he could talk about. He was sure impressed with your skills. I believe that catching a butterfly on your finger would have done the trick, but not running from a crawdad and not minding the mud and the muck? I think you've won his little heart."

Blushing slightly, Shelagh placed her bag on the counter and turned to the sink to wash her hands. "I don't think it was nearly so impressive, Dr. Turner. He seemed very joyful. He and Jack were both quite exuberant." She busied herself with thoroughly scrubbing her hands, trying to control her heart rate.

Turning from the sink, Shelagh watched as the doctor placed the last of his instruments in his bag. He looked thoughtful, his fingers twitching as he closed the lid to the autoclave.

"Joyful. I reckon he is that," Dr. Turner said. His instruments clattered as he tied off his bag. He glanced at Shelagh. "I've done nothing but worry about him, not having a mother, and living over there with my brother and his lot."

He pressed his lips together as if he had said too much. His eyes flickered at Shelagh, and she got the impression that he was going to apologize for speaking out of turn. "I lost my mother when I was very young," Shelagh said, before she could stop herself. She wanted to let him know that she understood in some small way. She thought of the light in Timothy's eyes as he had jumped from rock to rock, laughing. "Children are more resilient than you think." Shelagh met his eyes, heart pounding once more.

His eyes widened fractionally, and seemed to warm as if in sympathy. "I'm sorry."

Shelagh bowed her head, flickering her gaze to meet his before pulling on a pair of gloves to sort her instruments. "It was long ago."

He didn't press further. "Well, Timothy was very impressed with you. Not as much with me, I'm afraid." Dr. Turner signed, running a hand through his fringe. "I was late for supper and then called out before we'd even had the apple betty."

Shelagh could well imagine a neighbor or another nurse seeking him out at his brother's cabin, and the disappointed look on Timothy's face when his father left. My Dad never has time either , Timothy had said, and Shelagh's pounding heart squeezed in sympathy.

Nurse Parrish breezed in before she could reply. "Dr. Turner, we've a laboring mother in need of a consultation, should you have the time now before your rounds begin."

Dr. Turner placed his cleaned bag of instruments onto a ready tray. "I'll be right with you, Nurse."

Nurse Parrish nodded. "I'll wait for you outside of the ward, Doctor."

Glancing at the autoclave, Dr. Turner smiled at Shelagh. "It's all yours, though I apologize that I didn't get to turn it around for you."

"It's no matter," Shelagh answered, smiling at him. "I can turn it around and clean my instruments before meeting with Mrs. Polly. She's the reason I'm here, though I never turn down an opportunity to use the autoclave!"

"Perhaps one day each outpost will have one of its own." He returned her smile before turning to the sink to wash his hands. "Mrs. Polly is as well as can be expected. She's concerned and far from home. We've monitored the fetal movement closely, and baby is responding to stimuli. I do still fear a pre-term labor, however, given her history." He shrugged into his white coat. "I believe that she'll be glad to see her midwife."

Shelagh smiled. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm looking forward to seeing her as well."

"I must meet with Nurse Parrish and our patient." He stepped towards the door, but turned back. "Thank you for your words, Nurse Mannion. You're very kind."

His dark eyes met hers and Shelagh's cheeks warmed. "Think nothing of it, Dr. Turner." He smiled and left the room. Shelagh released a breath before turning to the autoclave, attempting to remove the image of his warm gaze from her mind.

...

Mrs. Polly's eyes brightened as Shelagh entered the ward. She sat up straighter in the bed, one hand curled protectively across her abdomen. "Nurse Mannion! It sure is nice to see you."

"Hello, Mrs. Polly!" Shelagh sat in the chair next to the bed. "How are you feeling today?"

The brightness about her face dimmed somewhat at the question. "I had some painin' in my back, Nurse. Earlier today. The least 'un keeps a-movin' some, but no more jiggin'. I keep wishin' there was a way to see inside… I sound a fool."

"Not at all," Shelagh said, gently patting Mrs. Polly's hand. "You sound like a mother."

Mrs. Polly's lips trembled. "That's what I keep sayin'. Hit don't matter if he ain't borned yet. I'm still his Momma."

"You're taking such good care of him." Shelagh noticed the dark circles under Mrs. Polly's eyes. "Are you not resting?"

Picking at the bedspread, Mrs. Polly grimaced. "I try. I keep worryin', and when I'm not frettin', I'm put out by all the other women in here." She lowered her voice. "I don't know how their husbands stand 'em. Can't a one of them keep quiet up in the night."

Shelagh pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "It sounds very frustrating!"

"I shouldn't say nothin' like that, Nurse Mannion. They're all so nice to me. But I'd rather be home with…" Mrs. Polly's cheeks flushed red.

Shelagh smiled. "How is Mr. Polly?"

"Lord, I don't think he's been a-eatin'. He don't like my sister's cooking, barely tolerates my cousin's. He's been taking extra shifts in the mine to make some money for my stay here in Hyden . Them nurses say not to worry over the costs, but I do. " Mrs. Polly hung her head. "I don't think he's sleepin' no more 'an me."

"You're both under an immense amount of stress at the moment, Mrs. Polly."

The young woman held up her head. "We'll make do," she said, seemingly ready to change the subject.

Shelagh stood and picked up Mrs. Polly's chart, flipping through the notes made by the other nurses. "Is there anything I can do to be of help to you or baby?"

Mrs. Polly pressed her lips together. "I don't want to be a bother."

"I'm certain that you could never be a bother!"

"Would you check me over? Them other nurses are nice an' all but they don't know my baby like you do." Mrs. Polly's fingers clenched over her stomach before relaxing.

"Well, of course. It must be so difficult to sit and wait on your checks each day."

"I never knew a day to be so long." Relaxing back into the bed, Mrs. Polly lifted her hospital gown to expose her stomach. "Dr. Turner said that the baby was a growin' still. I'm bigger than I was."

At the doctor's name, Shelagh flushed. "Does he check you daily?"

"He does, along with them nurses, and sometimes that other doc, too. I'm not lacking for checks or company. Cora Tucker comes some days and sits with me, and my sisters and cousins do, too."

"I'm glad." Shelagh bent over the bed, placing her hands on the distended abdomen. "Tell me if anything is uncomfortable or painful." She palpated the uterus slowly, feeling for baby's position. "He's not head down just yet," she murmured, before her face lit in a grin as a small knee or elbow jabbed at her. "I believe I may have awakened him or interrupted his elevenses."

"Eleven-what?" Mrs. Polly laughed. "Whatever it is, I'm always purely happy to feel hit move!" Her eyes filled with tears. "I hope soon we can git home to Hiram."

Shelagh smiled softly, pulling Mrs. Polly's gown back over her stomach. "I hope so, too, Mrs. Polly. Very soon."

...

The warm wind cooled as the afternoon approached, cloud cover blocking the warmth of the sun. Shelagh entered through Beech Fork's back door, depositing her newly sterilized equipment in the ready room. The chart on the wall reminded her that an inventory would soon need to be taken and she thought that perhaps if the evening were quiet that she might start on that tedious, but necessary, task. The Center was quiet in the early evening. Lisette was off to Hyden to meet up with another group of Couriers who were to meet the train in Hazard. A dental clinic was to be held at Hyden Hospital over the coming weekend and the couriers were tasked with bringing in the dentist and his supplies over the long trek. Shelagh picked up a few pamphlets on dentistry and placed them into her saddlebags, thinking perhaps that a few of the patients on her morning rounds might wish to bring their children to the event.

Alone with her thoughts as she exited the ready room, Shelagh drifted through the Center, knowing that she should rest, but tense and cagey. She was relieved that Mrs. Polly's pregnancy continued, and that the little one was moving enough to respond to stimuli. Yet the change in fetal movement and the worry over pre-term delivery tugged at her. Her prayer list was as long as her arm and growing longer by the day, but as far as patients went, Mrs. Polly was dear to her heart and one that she prayed for most often. Dr. Turner and his son were now in her prayers, as well, but her mind stuttered at the thought of the doctor and she sat on the sofa in the waiting room, looking at the large stone hearth that dominated the room.

Beech Fork had been the very first FNS Outpost built almost ten years before. It was homier than the other Outposts, the hearth and plumbing the envy of the other Centers. "It'll give you a feeling of home," Mrs. Breckinridge had said to Shelagh as she accepted the post. The exterior of the Center did look like a pleasing valley cottage. The rustic interior was also appealing, if not exactly what Shelagh would pick in a home for herself. It sufficed for her patients' needs, however, and there was really very little more she could ask of the Center except the electrical capability to run an autoclave and more reliable lighting.

Home. Mrs. Breckinridge's smiling face had given her a sense that perhaps she could make the Outpost feel like home. Home was an abstract idea to her mind. Nonnatus House was no longer home, though she could hardly stop expecting to wake to Sister Julienne's warm voice alerting to her to an early-morning delivery or to sing in the chapel with her sisters, raising her voice in supplication. She did not long for the life left behind so much as for the people she had known in it, though their letters brought them near to her heart once more. One her desk was a half-written letter intended for Sister Evangelina. She could easily imagine the dauntless nun among the Kentuckians. With her frank wit she would fit right in, making friends, and bringing the rural Outposts to her exacting standards. Sister Monica Joan and Cora would become fast friends, Shelagh was certain. Cora held many folk beliefs that Sister Monica Joan would enjoy learning about, though Cora's love of mashed up cornbread in a glass of buttermilk wasn't quite as sweet as Sister Monica Joan's overwhelming hankering for cake. Sister Julienne would be a balm to the souls of the Kentuckians, her calm and understanding demeanor endearing her to the clinic mothers.

Shelagh's eyes misted briefly as she thought of her former sisters, but she sniffed, looking once more to the hearth. Her two-year contract felt longest when she was alone at Beech Fork in the evenings. It seemed that making the Center feel more like home could help her homesickness, but though Mrs. Breckinridge did not mind if the nurses decorated the Centers, Shelagh wasn't sure where to begin. Even if she wished to decorate there were few shops in which she could purchase items and she had so few mementos of her own with which to make her mark on Beech Fork. In packing for America she had brought her few possessions; a handful of photographs and books, clothing, toiletries, and her Bible. Her trunk had been noticeably smaller than the nurses she had travelled with, and now she found that though she did not wish for more material things, she did wish for a way to make Beech Fork feel like her home and less of a stop-over or gap year in her life. When she had first stepped into Beech Fork she had not intended to become so involved, to feel so close to the patients and her colleagues. Now she found that she wished to make a place for herself among them.

Opening her trunk she thumbed through the photographs, looking again at her parents on their wedding day, her father in front of his store, a photo from her schoolgirl days, and finally one of her dear Sisters. She placed them on the bed before pulling from the trunk each book and her Bible, standing them upright on her dresser. Pressing her lips together in thought, she stepped briefly out to the porch, collecting two rocks that were often used as doorstops. Back in the bedroom she pressed them to each end of the set of books, as temporary bookends. She carefully placing her hand mirror, brush, and comb next to the books. A small vase of flowers would be lovely next to the comb, and she resolved to find one under the counters of the kitchen.

Tucking the photographs back into the trunk, she closed it, finding that the room was little changed form when she had first entered it, but that it felt a little more like hers. Each day that passed gave her a new foothold in this place and as she turned out the light to begin the inventory she looked at her books and smiled.

...

Sunday morning was warmer still than the days before. Shelagh couldn't believe how quickly the seasons changed. Where she and Mrs. B had picked through hoarfrost only two weeks before, the days were now warm with a wafty wind. The locals had told her not to get used to it, that there was cold and dreary weather yet to come. Winter extended out into April and sometimes May, they told her, with the appearance of Redbud, Dogwood, Locust, and Blackberry 'winters'- weeks in which the weather grew unseasonably cold once more. Looking out into the bright sunshine and blue skies, Shelagh could hardly remember the slate grey of the mid-April sky, and hoped that all the winter she would see in Kentucky was over until much later in the year.

It had been a quiet night in the Center and for that, Shelagh was thankful. The dental clinic at Hyden Hospital had been a rousing success, but also a trying day full of crying children and worried patients. One bright spot to the day had been Timothy Turner plopping down in front of the dentist with a smile, opening his mouth very widely to find that he had no cavities. "I didn't think I would," he informed Shelagh shyly afterward. "Dad always harps on me 'bout my teeth. My cousins can't stand it, neither, but we all listen. We don't want to up and lose our teeth!"

It had been lovely to see Timothy again. It seemed the entire county had shown up for the event. Timothy ran off after speaking with her and Shelagh's heart fluttered as she watched him run to his father. Dr. Turner's smile was bright for his son and she smiled to watch him listen so intently to the small boy. Moments later Timothy ran off with Jack and a few other boys. Shelagh watched Dr. Turner walk through the crowds, stopping to talk to people he knew, friend and patient alike. Though he smiled and shook hands the brightness that had been evident in him while speaking with Timothy seemed to be missing as he made his way through throngs of people. Eventually she caught sight of him slipping into the hospital's side door, and thought to follow him, to seek out an update on Mrs. Polly's condition. Once she gained the steps to the hospital she saw him riding away, his horse headed down Thousandsticks toward Red Bird's district. Mrs. Polly had been well, though false labor had given her a fright the evening before. Shelagh sat with her and offered what comfort she could, remembering Dr. Turner's face when he had said that decreased fetal movement often led to poor fetal outcomes.

She had prayed on her own for the Polly baby and decided now, as she pinned her hair to attend church with Cora, to add the baby to the church's prayer list. She had not yet found a congregation in Kentucky, there being no Anglicans for many miles. Cora had invited her to services many times, and though Shelagh appreciated Cora's candor and canny ability to discern the sincerity of a person or group of people, she had as yet been unable to attend. As she finished dressing, she found that she was excited to once more worship with others and with her dear friend.

Cole Fork Assembly of God was a newer church, built down a dirt road near a fork in the river. Cora had explained that an English woman established the church in early 1932, having been called by the Lord to the Kentucky mountains to preach the Word and build churches. A former nurse, Marion Wakeman felt deeply moved to provide churches to the people of the mountains and was even still establishing new Assemblies throughout the region. "It's good people here, Shelagh," Cora said. "I would not do you wrong." Cora had been sitting in her rocker, puffing on her pipe as she had invited Shelagh to church. Once Shelagh agreed, Cora smiled. "And I won't bring no buttermilk to the picnic," she said with a wink, leaving Shelagh shaking her head and smiling.

Cole Fork's congregation met three times on Sundays. Cora said that she didn't hold with going to church all day on the Lord's Day. "Women have got to have time to rest," she said, puffing out pipe smoke. "But most of them men don't care none for that, do they?" Privately Shelagh agreed that rest would do most of her patients a world of good, but she could also understand the need to meet with fellow parishioners to praise and worship and feed one's spirit. Shelagh led Mrs. B up the dirt road toward the church, joining a queue of other church members as they rode in. She recognized many of them and smiled and nodded. She wore her uniform, as Mrs. Breckinridge expected of the nurses when they interacted with the community. The uniform granted her instant recognition among the people of Leslie County, but also afforded her respect and dignity. Yet looking at the young mothers turned out in the Sunday best, Shelagh felt even more out of place than she would have done in her own clothing.

Cora waved at her from the church door, where she stood talking with each person as they entered. Next to her was an older gentleman who slapped men on their backs and gently took the hands of women and small children. His face beamed red with delight, and Shelagh couldn't help but smile when she finally stood before him and Cora.

"Oh, Brother Sean, this here is Nurse Mannion. She's a Godly woman, and a good friend. I'm happier than you know to have her here with us today." Cora took Shelagh's hand and patted it.

Brother Sean smiled his wide grin and took Shelagh's hand when Cora finished. "It's a plum pleasure to meet ya, Nurse. My wife and least uns will be pleased to meet ya at our Sunday School. Sister Cora tells me that you have been looking fer a congregation since you've been in Beech Fork. I do hope you'll like what you see here today, ma'am."

"It'll be a mite different than what she's a-used to, Sean!" Cora laughed, slapping her leg. "Come on, now. You kin sit right in aside of me."

Shelagh smiled at Brother Sean before following Cora inside. The church was still new, and obviously well cared for, the pleasing scents of wood and polish surrounding the happy bustle around the pews. Inwardly Shelagh worried that Cora might march her around, introducing her to the people she didn't know, but instead Cora led her to a middle pew, sitting with her amidst the movement. "It's a large congregation," she said, noticing a few patients and smiling at them.

"We were jus' as pleased to get our own church building," Cora said, waving to an elderly woman in another pew. "Makes it easier to hear the Good Word."

"That makes it wonderful, indeed!" Shelagh looked around at the people sitting in the pews. "Will we start with Sunday School?"

Nodding, Cora picked up a hymnal. "We'll start with a prayer, a song, and then break into Sunday School. The children love it. See them all there, lined up."

Shelagh turned to see the children in line, startling to see Timothy Turner laughing with Jack. "Oh," she said, heart pounding, "I didn't realize the Turners came to church here, too."

Cora looked up at Tim, catching his eye. He smiled and waved as Jack tried to take advantage of his inattention to poke him. Cora laughed. "Them two. Thick as thieves. You'd almost think Jack was his brother. Them behind Jack, those are Timothy's cousins."

Shelagh looked at the dark-haired girls and boys lined up behind Jack. "I've not met Dr. Turner's family beyond Timothy." She pressed her lips together before asking, "Are Dr. Turner and his brother here today?"

Jerking her head back, Cora nodded. "Dr. Turner's brother, Thomas and his wife Anna Jane always sit in that corner. But you'll not find the doctor with 'im. If he's here, he's outside with the horses or under a tree. Doesn't darken the church-house door."

Shelagh's forehead creased. She started to ask Cora for more information, but Brother Sean took to the pulpit as the children followed their Sunday School teachers from the building.

"It's a beautiful day before the Lord," Brother Sean said, holding out his arms and smiling at the congregation. "Will someone say 'Amen'?"

...

The sun was warm as they exited the church. Several patients stopped to speak with Shelagh and Cora, Cora kissing each baby's cheek with an exclamation of how well each child looked. Shelagh laughed and waved at a towheaded toddler who blew kisses over his mother's shoulder. Cora touched her arm. "Shelagh," she said, nodding to a couple who stood before them, "this here is Dr. Turner's brother, Thomas and his wife, Anna Jane."

Shelagh blinked for a moment at Thomas. "Oh!" she said, smiling to cover her momentary pause at his resemblance to Dr. Turner. "Greetings. It's lovely to meet you."

Thomas inclined his head and returned the smile. "And you, ma'am."

Anna Jane smiled too, eyes bright under her Sunday bonnet. "I've been wanting to meet you, Nurse Mannion. Timothy was sure taken with you."

Shelagh smiled. "He's a dear little boy. Jack, too."

"They're good uns," Anna Jane agreed. "Tim always helps me around the house and never shirks his chores." She looked at Cora with a conspiratorial grin. "But the two of 'em sure know how to make their own fun."

Cora slapped her leg. "Reminds me of you and Patrick, Thomas. Always going from dawn to dusk and thereafter."

Thomas's smile was faint. "That we did. But Timothy finds time to up and finish his chores before stickin' his nose in them medical magazines."

"He's Patrick made over," Anna Jane said, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Always findin' somethin' of interest to learn about."

"A curious mind," Shelagh replied, thinking of Timothy's book on butterflies.

"Yes." Anna Jane smiled. "We'd love to have ya to supper one evenin'. Being new still, you haven't had much time to settle, I'd imagine."

Shelagh smiled, nodding to Cora. "I've had help."

"I don't doubt it," Thomas said, smiling fully. "Mrs. Cora knows everyone 'round."

"Whether they want to know me or not." Cora laughed. "Nurse Mannion is one of the finest I've yet had the pleasure to be knowing."

"Yes," Thomas answered. "From what Patrick says, I'd say she is. Just the other night he told us-" he was cut off when a young woman holding an infant interrupted.

Anna Jane grinned, taking the baby. She gurgled at him, tickling his chin. "My newest grand-young'un." She expertly settled him at her waist. "I expect we'd best get these children fed."

"I'll pack over the baskets, Annie." Thomas nodded to the ladies before walking toward his horse.

She looked to Shelagh and Cora. "Would you like to sup with us?"

"We might head over your way later, Anna Jane, thank ya. I'm gon' let the girl eat then meet some more people."

Anna Jane nodded. "Come to supper one evening," she said to Shelagh. "Whenever you can. We'd all like it if you did."

Shelagh fought the flush in her cheeks from Thomas's unexpected comments. "I will," she said to Anna Jane. "Thank you."

The other woman grinned, taking her grandchild and walking toward her family, gathered around their blanket.

"Thomas never was as sweet as Patrick," Cora said. "But there's something about them Turner boys."

Shelagh flushed red, glad that Cora had turned to her saddlebag, pulling from it several wrapped packages.

"I brung food enough for us two, maybe a few more, if any are so inclined ," she said. "But we might be a-looking over there at Maudie's basket. Can't nobody bake a better dessert."

Shelagh smiled as her cheeks cooled. "I'm not much of a hand in the kitchen. Thank goodness for Mrs. Soard and Mrs. Wilkerson. If they didn't cook and tend to the Center I believe that Lisette and I would starve!"

Cora nodded approvingly. "You girls shouldn't have to cook for yourselves. Up the hills and down on the river all day and night delivering babies. You'd have a hell of a time fryin' up something to fatten ya." She looked down at Shelagh's waist. "Shame you don't like the buttermilk. It would fortify your bones."

With a laugh, Shelagh began to relax as she took the parcel of lunch from Cora. "I'm afraid buttermilk and I will never agree, Cora," she said, "but I do find myself quite keen on your cornbread!"

Cora's smile was wide and delighted. "That's why I packed some extra!"

"Mrs. Cora!" Timothy Turner ran and threw his arms around Cora. "Did you bring me some, too?"

Grinning wider, Cora patted Tim's back and winked at Shelagh. "Listening to others' conversations, Tim? Your Aunt Anna Jane was just here talkin' with me and Nurse Mannion. What would she say?"

"That she also wants some of your cornbread!" Tim's smile was mischievous as he accepted a thick wedge from Cora. He turned. "Dad! Mrs. Tucker done brought us cornbread!"

Shelagh's heart began to pound as Dr. Turner grinned, walking through the church crowd with an overflowing basket in his hands. Her recently cooled cheeks flushed again.

He shifted a rolled magazine from under his arm and held the basket up for Cora to inspect. "Should be enough here to keep me for the week. But-" he smirked at Tim, before looking back at Cora, "there isn't a woman here who can make cornbread as good as yours."

Pursing her lips, Cora gave a wrapped package to Patrick. She sniffed. "There's salt pork in there, too."

"Thank you," he said, tucking it into his basket. His eye caught Shelagh's, and he smiled again. "Nurse Mannion." He looked down at the basket and ruefully met her eyes. "The Beech Fork women keep me well fed."

"They do the same for me." Shelagh ducked her head slightly as Cora and Timothy stepped away to spread out a blanket.

"I'd imagine you'd have a spot at any blanket here," Dr. Turner said, looking around at the crowd. He leaned in slightly. "Some are better at the stove than others," he confided. "Yet all come at it with the same desire to help. To be neighborly."

Shelagh smiled at his words, but found herself interested in the fringe of his hair as she dared to look up at him . It fell into his eyes as he leaned in, and Shelagh could not look away. "They've been very welcoming," she said, faintly, startling when Tim crowed over something Cora said.

"Sit down," Cora tutted, patting the blanket. "You too, Patrick. None of this sitting by yourself under a tree to read your book." She nodded at the rolled up magazine.

With a sheepish look, Dr. Turner placed the magazine on the grass and folded his long legs to sit on the blanket. Shelagh sat next to Timothy, smiling as he began to tell a story of he and Jack evading being sprayed by a skunk. Dr. Turner laughed as he ate his lunch, and Shelagh smiled, tuning the story out to enjoy the happiness on Timothy's face. She ate slowly, looking around at the crowd, acutely aware of Dr. Turner's presence on the small blanket. He was tall even when he was seated, his hair still falling across his forehead. Shelagh's eyes flitted toward him and her stomach clenched as he smiled at Timothy. She quickly looked away, eyes alighting on the partially rolled journal on the grass. "Oh," she said, reaching out to touch a furled edge, just as Timothy finished his story. She thought of Thomas's comments about both Patrick and Tim having their noses buried in medical magazines. "_The Lancet_ ."

Dr. Turner turned to her. "Yes, I try to keep abreast of pertinent articles. I keep up with it and _The Journal of the American Medical Association_, as I can. Well, when the mail sees fit to deliver them."

"I used to read through _The Lancet_ every Saturday for any midwifery articles, though the _Midwives Chronicle_ was really more my choice of reading material." She paused, setting the wrap from her meal onto the blanket. "Now, of course, there is Mrs. Breckinridge's publication."

"Yes, I quite enjoy the news and stories that she publishes." He picked up the journal and handed it to her. "I'm finished with it, if you'd like to take it to read."

"Oh," Shelagh said, looking down at the table of contents. "I couldn't-"

"Dr. Turner!" The doctor turned as his name was called, standing from the blanket when he recognized one of the FNS couriers.

"Hello, Eula," he said, gathering his basket. "Am I needed at Hyden or a house-call?"

"It's Mr. Jones at Wolf Creek. His wife rode up to Hyden and said it's bad. Nurse Parrish is on her way but asked me to find you." Eula panted slightly, leaning over to catch her breath.

"Thank you," Dr. Turner said, before turning back to Timothy. "Tim-"

"I know," Tim said, dully. " You have to go."

"I'm sorry, Tim. Really, I am…" he trailed off, looking back toward Eula. "I'll try and make it out for supper this week ."

"Alright." Tim took a large bite of cornbread.

"I'll see him back to Anna Jane," Cora said to Patrick. "Go on."

Shelagh stood from the blanket. "Eula," she said to the courier, "does Nurse Parrish need me to cover for her?" She noted the girl's negative head shake before looking at Dr. Turner. "Do you need assistance with Mr. Jones?"

Dr. Turner also declined. "Thank you, Nurse. Stay, enjoy the picnic. You may be called back to Beech Fork before it's over." He took his basket and looked one last time at Timothy. "I'll see you soon, son ," he said, before hastening away.

Timothy didn't answer. Cora shook her head. "Won't you stay, Eula?" She gestured to the blanket. "There's plenty."

Eula settled onto the blanket in Patrick's spot. Timothy noticed Jack in the crowd and, receiving Cora's permission, ran after him. Tidying the remains of the lunch in the quiet aftermath, Shelagh listened idly to Cora and Eula's pleasantries before noticing the forgotten copy of _The Lancet_ in the grass. Feeling somewhat secretive, she tucked it into her handbag before tuning back in and joining the conversation.

* * *

a/n: Sweet-toothed October the Cow and Mac were real friends at FNS. According to Mary Breckinridge's autobiography, October lived 12 years and was buried with honors with the horses for her service.


	7. Mountain Dew

_...many things I wish to share with all of you! I plan to include a copy of our _Quarterly Bulletin_ with this letter. A particular article of interest outlines a Frontier Nurse's daily time and how it is spent. I was surprised to find that, on average, slightly more of my time is spent in tending my horse than is spent in midwifery care! It surely seems those numbers should be flipped. My horse, Mrs. B, is very sweet and small, a perfect companion to take into the hills and down along the river-and sometimes _through_ it!..._

At the toll of a handbell, Cora stood from the blanket. "That'll be the call to afternoon church. You're welcome to go back on in if you'd like." Around them many members of the congregation started to pack up their lunches and some were already mounting the church steps while others rode off for home or relatives' homes.

Shelagh started to help Cora with packing up the blanket and the packages. Eula had left for Beech Fork, to see if Lisette needed to be spelled. "What are your plans for the afternoon, Cora?"

Cora cut her eyes to Shelagh and smiled. "I was a-hoping you'd ask me that." She paused as friends called out greetings as they walked toward the next service. "I'd like to ride out to see to my friend Wilma Williams. Like me, she's getting on in years. Was once the best midwife out here, though you'd never know it as she only worked over in Jettown."

"Jettown?" Shelagh handed the blanket to Cora as they reached their horses. "I've not heard of it."

"I'm not surprised." Cora packed the saddlebag. "All her people lived over in Jettown, her kin and others. Had to set up their own place, so's they could live free. But now they's all but gone. Done moved on. Can't blame 'em if there's nothing here for 'em."

"Moved on?" Before coming to Kentucky Shelagh and the other nurses had been given a local history, though nothing prepared her for such a separation of peoples by their skin color once she entered the States. Leslie County itself seemed almost completely settled by only white families and Shelagh had never heard of Jettown. "Is Jettown near Beech Fork?"

"It was never more than a small community." Cora nodded her head. "Just down the river a piece. Most everyone there's done moved up to Ohio or Michigan. There's work there, I reckon. Wilma's family's going, too. But not until her granddaughter births her baby."

"Are you looking in on her, Cora? Why isn't she on our roster?"

"You know why, Shelagh." Cora shook her head. "I reckon I can't say I wouldn'ta been the same way as some of these if it hadn't been for my Daddy running moonshine with Wilma's father."

"Moonshine?" Shelagh raised her eyebrows, nodding her head forward.

"Oh, Lord, yes. My Daddy got this idea in mind that he could make the shine and sell it all over the county, not just to white folk . He'd known Wilma's father, El, from somewhere, I don't know. Anyway, the two of them stuck their heads together and put the still up there near Jettown, down some narrow trail that I'm not sure I could find again if I tried. My older brothers and Wilma's would run the shine out, but me and her were set to making sure no one come down the path. No one ever did. All she and I would do was play games and laugh together till the boys or our daddies told us we could go."

"Cora!" Shelagh laughed as they mounted. "Weren't you scared? Little girls guarding a trail?"

"We didn't have enough sense in our heads to be scared!" Cora laughed. "I'm sure gonna miss Wilma." She looked at Shelagh. "Will you go and see about this baby with me?"

Shelagh reined Mrs. B and trotted her ahead. She smiled at her friend. "Lead the way."

...

The green water of the Middle Fork of the Kentucky River flowed behind Beech Fork Nursing Center and east toward the county line. As they rode toward Jettown they passed a few houses that Shelagh had visited, but soon broke through a small wooded area to reach a swath of water that Shelagh had not yet seen. Across the river was a small collection of houses.

Cora reined her horse. "There it is." She nodded toward a clump of trees growing out of the hillside. "The ford is just there, but it's a mite deep."

"The ford at Asher Branch is the worst I've yet to experience," Shelagh said, patting Mrs. B. "The water was up to the horse's neck!"

"Good way to get a bath!" Cora laughed, smacking her leg. "You'll see I wore my riding pants cause I hoped we'd come out this way! This 'un's not so bad as Asher but yer feet and legs will surely get damp."

"Not with these," Shelagh said, pointing to the high riding boots. She grinned at Cora before following her horse into the water. Well trained, Mrs. B stepped into the river, easily walking even as the water began to rise.

Halfway across, Shelagh looked down the river at the flowing water, struck again at how her life had changed so fully in the past few months. The view from the middle of the water was lovely, trees and rocky cliffs impressive under the afternoon sun. Cool water struck at her trouser legs, bringing her mind back to the task at hand, but her feet remained dry inside her snug boots. The horses eased onto the riverbank at the other side. "Are your feet wet?" Shelagh grinned at Cora, who shook her head with a laugh and led the way up the path to Jettown.

Wilma's house stood on a muddy hill just above the river. Around it were houses that appeared to be empty, though a child looked out of the window of one, ducking back inside quickly as Shelagh and Mrs. B passed.

Outside of the clapboard house, Cora knocked before pushing open the door. "Wil, it's just me, and I brung a nurse like I told ya I would."

"Well, come on, then!" a voice called from inside the door.

Shelagh followed Cora into the darkened room to see an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair. She looked at Cora to find her nodding encouragingly, so Shelagh smiled at Wilma. "Hello, Mrs. Williams," she said, placing her midwifery bag on the table near the fireplace. "My name is Shelagh Mannion, nurse and midwife. And friend of Cora's."

"You've a lovely voice there," Wilma said. "I bet anything yer a songbird."

"Oh," Shelagh scoffed slightly. "Thank you. I do enjoy singing."

"She's a golden voice, Wil," Cora said. "Done heard her up to that church this very morning."

"Church." Wilma sighed. "I reckon that'll be one good thing up in Ohio. I sure enough miss it."

"Reverend Douglas moved on, then?" Cora settled into a straight backed chair.

"The reverend, our neighbors, my family-Lord knows there's only a handful of us left here, Cora. Come hot summer I expect some folks be out here picking over the bones, living where they dared not step afore."

"I purely hate to see you lose this place, Wilma. I knowed how much it meant to yer Daddy."

Wilma's lips ticked up in a bittersweet smile. "It did. And I'm gon' miss it. The sound of the river and of a summer night." She sighed. "But there's a summer in Ohio, too. And Daddy would be prouder of the least uns-they's what he did all of it fer."

"Well, how's Felice? She seemed good enough when I was here last, but I brung you the nurse."

"She's tolerable and fat," Wilma said. "Eats everything we got and then some. I told her that baby don't need all that she chews but she gon' chew it anyway."

"Lord, let her enjoy it, Wilma. Soon that baby'll be chewing on her."

Wilma and Cora laughed together and Shelagh shook her head, smiling at the old friends. When they calmed, Shelagh looked to Wilma. "Is it Felice that you would like for me to have a look at?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said, rocking back in her chair. "It's my eyes. I can't see no longer. Looking at you now all I kin see is some dark and light. The doc said my eyesight was near gone afore he left to Ohio. Your doctor came and said the same. It's far gone, he said, too far gone."

"I'm sorry, Wilma." Cora sighed. "Dr. Turner didn't mention that he'd seen ya."

"It was good of him to come here. Nothin' to be sorry fer. I don't have to look at everybody I know growin' older."

The women laughed again, though Cora reached out to pat her friend's hand.

"Did Dr. Turner examine Felice, too?"

Wilma turned toward Shelagh's voice. "No, she weren't here when he was. I had a thought on having him deliver her. But I figure if you, Cora, were here and the nurse you said you knew, well, it'd be women in the room with Felice, like it ought to be. Like it woulda been, afore." She tapped the arm of her chair and fell into silence. After a beat, she jerked her head toward the back of the house. "Y'all go on back there. Felice knows yer comin'."

Cora touched Wilma's shoulder as she passed and gestured for Shelagh to follow her. She stopped outside an open doorway and called out "Felice?"

"Come on in, Mrs. Cora," a young voice called back. "I heard ever word."

Following a chuckling Cora, Shelagh saw a young woman sitting in a small bed, her round cheeks pressed up in a grin. "Granmomma says yer coming. I told her you'd be here afore this one!" she pointed to her stomach. "I don't think it wants to be borned, Mrs. Cora!"

"Well, honey, that's the way of it, sometimes." She winked. "The least 'uns over to Hyden have started to believe the nurses are bringin' the babies in their saddlebags!" Cora gestured Shelagh forward. "This here is Nurse Mannion. She didn't bring no baby with 'er, but she'll look at ya and see what needs done."

"Hello, Felice," Shelagh said, stifling a smile and settling her bag onto the bed. "How are feeling today?"

"Tired. I thought this would done be over. I wisht you had brung a baby in yer bag. " She ran a hand over her stomach. "I think I've been carryin' this one since time begun."

Shelagh smiled. "I'm sure it feels like that! Would you consent to my checking on you and baby?"

Felice nodded, pulling up her shift. "The doc would check on me when he was here, and Granmomma's friend Pearl, afore Cora started lookin' in on me."

"I'm sure your grandmother gives you quite a bit of advice," Shelagh said, placing a pinard on Felice's stomach. She smiled at the strong heartbeat.

"She's can't see none," Felice said, moving her hand to her stomach. "But this morning she felt around and said the baby's head was just…" she trailed off as she touched her abdomen. "Here."

Shelagh placed her hands in the area to feel for the lie and confirmed Wilma's finding. "Spot on!" She grinned with Cora and Felice. "Let me ask you a few questions, Felice, and do a few more checks…" After taking a history from Felice Shelagh took her measuring tape and checked fundal height. "I'm reading thirty-seven weeks, which seems to be correct with your dates." She returned the tape to her bag. "Most babies are born at forty weeks and first babies can often be a wee bit on the late side, I'm afraid. Though baby is head down, you're still carrying high and haven't dropped. It could be another few days or as much as three or more weeks."

Felice groaned. "Three weeks!" She grasped her stomach and sobered. "Maybe it's the good Lord's way of lettin' us stay here longer. "Granmomma's in no hurry for Ohio."

"Well," Shelagh smiled gently, "I'm sure that you'll enjoy these last few days here together! I would also hope that you won't take off straight away with a newborn!"

With a shake of her head, Felice sat up and righted her shift. "I don't know which'll be squallin' more as we leave. This baby or," she jerked her head toward the front room, "Granmomma."

...

Shelagh and Cora crossed the river and rode away from the Williams's house as late afternoon approached. It was still warm and breezy and Shelagh turned her face to the sun, enjoying the heat after the damp cool of the house on the river.

"I worry about them," Cora said, leading her horse around a rut in the path. "Out on that river, most of the men gone." She sighed. "Course, I'm home to an empty house, too."

"Oh, Cora," Shelagh said, her lips twisting with sympathy.

"It's the way of it, I 'xpect." Cora pulled her horse to a stop at the fork in the path. "I remember thinkin' that life would always go on the way it did back when I was a young woman, when I had Fount and all my friends were young. Now there's only a few left my age and most can't sit a horse. And now Wilma..." She frowned. "I don't know I was ever good enough a friend to her."

Pulling alongside, she reached for Cora's hand. "She's trusting you to deliver her great-grandchild. I would say that tells you just what she thinks of you."

Cora squeezed Shelagh's hand. "I reckon I got a few more babies to deliver yet." She looked down the trail. "You be careful now, hear?"

"Only if you'll do the same!" Shelagh smiled. "Goodnight, Cora."

With a wave, Cora headed up into the hills, bound for home.

...

It was a lovely day for a ride. There would be paperwork, sterilization, and preparation for the week ahead at Beech Fork and so Shelagh took her time with Mrs. B, enjoying the just budding trees and wildflowers that had started to grow in what had once been muddy grass. Full white clouds sat in an impossibly blue sky and Shelagh smiled at the glory of God's work in nature. The river flowed unhurriedly as she passed shanty houses and small cabins, waving here and there to familiar faces and curious children. Just ahead she noticed another rider and slowed Mrs. B's gait so as not to overtake him. She recognized the Morgan with the distinctive pattern on its rear flank and her heart began to jump.

Riding closer, she pressed her lips together nervously before calling, "Dr. Turner! Greetings." She brought Mrs. B to step alongside the Morgan.

Dr. Turner turned to her and broke into a smile. "Nurse Mannion!" He looked over his shoulder as if he might spy another rider. "Called out to a patient?"

"After a fashion," she said, holding a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "Cora did the calling."

"Ah," he said, one side of his mouth quirking. "She's right good at that. I've been dragged halfway to Pineville and back looking after a few of her friends." He laughed.

"She does seem to know practically everyone!" Shelagh smiled, too, before sobering. "She wanted me to see to Wilma Williams's granddaughter, Felice. I understand that you've seen to Mrs. Williams," she said, blushing slightly in the fear of being too familiar.

"I have," he said, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to rub them together. "I'm afraid I wasn't able to give her any good news." He lifted his hat and brushed a hand over his head to push back the sweaty fringe from his brow. "I hope the examination of Felice was much better."

Shelagh dropped her eyes from his dark hair as he righted his hat . "It… It was, much better." Shelagh swallowed, trying to regain her composure. "The baby is in a good lie and will probably be born within the next three weeks!"

"Right happy news, then." Dr. Turner shook his head. "Not as happy at Wolf Creek. I'd estimate Mr. Jones might have the same timeframe, perhaps a little longer."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Shelagh smiled at Dr. Turner's nod. They rode in silence as they passed a row of small houses, several small children running about the water's edge. S he glanced sidelong at him, noticing how straight he sat in his saddle, his arms taut even with the horse in such a slow gait. His face was damp from the afternoon heat, his upper lip and jaw already darkened with stubble. He didn't wear a beard as many men in Leslie County did, Shelagh thought idly, noticing the sharp curve of his jaw. She quickly lowered her eyes, taking in the frayed edges to his shirt sleeves and the worn fabric of his trousers.

"Some days it does seem I deliver more bad news than glad," he said with a weary sigh. "Never gets any easier."

"No," Shelagh agreed. "It doesn't." The wind rustled through the trees, tiny green buds just beginning to show. "Timothy-"

"How did-"

Their eyes met as they spoke over one another. Dr. Turner smiled before laughing, and Shelagh ducked her head, a smile breaking over her face even as she tried to fight a blush of embarrassment. "Please, go on."

"Forgive me, Nurse Mannion. Mam Turner, my father's mother, would never excuse me, talking over a lady. You were saying?"

Shelagh smiled again. "It was nothing much, really. I just wanted to inquire after Timothy. His spirits this afternoon were revived once he met up with Jack Smith."

Dr. Turner flashed a grateful smile. "I hated leavin' him there, even though Thom and Anna Jane had him. He's still so young, and…." he trailed off. "I shouldn't bother you with this, Nurse. But thank you for tellin' me. I'm glad his good nature returned."

Shelagh's heart skipped at the look of loneliness that washed over Dr. Turner's face. She had seen an identical look on Timothy's that day at the creek. "Oh, it looked as if they were having a merry time, Doctor." She paused, wondering if she should go further. "I met your brother and his wife today." She waved at a woman hanging laundry on a line. "They were very kind."

"They are," Dr. Turner said, removing his canteen from the saddle hook and taking a long pull. "Anna Jane invited you to supper, of that I have no doubt. Done fed all of this county and half of Harlan." He laughed, replacing the canteen.

A dog's bark took their attention, and they pulled the horses to a stop as a large, black dog ran alongside. Dr. Turner grinned at Shelagh. "Still lookin' for a dog, Nurse?"

Shelagh's forehead wrinkled for a moment before she remembered her conversation with the doctor outside of Mrs. Polly's house. "I must say that I did not expect one to to come to me!"

The dog wagged its tail and ran off into the underbrush. "I think that was Jeb Southworth's dog," Dr. Turner said, urging his horse onward. "Believe his name is Tray."

"Tray?"

"There's a tune, you might not have ever heard of it, I reckon. 'Old Dog Tray'. About an old man with nothing left but his best friend, the dog." He hummed for a moment, before smiling self-consciously. "I would once sing now and again."

"Did you?" Shelagh smiled, thinking of the things they had in common. "So did I."

"Not much time for it now," he mused. "Always work to be done."

"There is that, Doctor." They rode in silence for a spell, before Shelagh inquired as to Mrs. Polly's care.

"She asks after you," he said with a smile. "I think she feels comforted when you're there to do her checks."

"I'll admit to favoring her. I've been praying for a happy outcome."

"I'm hopeful, too. She and Hiram are the best of us up in these hills." He paused. "Did you know that your Mrs. Breckinridge has ordered a 'Hess Bed' for the hospital? It's for premature babies. Have you heard of one?"

"I have heard of an incubator," Shelagh said, forehead creasing again as she thought. "They could be life-changing for premature babies. When is it due to arrive?"

"I don't know," Dr. Turner said, his fingers twitching once more. "Every day I check the post or wait to hear from one of your Couriers. I'm in the hope that it'll arrive for this least one…" he trailed off. "The post is not so regular through the mountains."

Shelagh nodded. "I shall pray for it's swift arrival."

"I'd be obliged," he said, a smile crossing his face before turning into a full grin. They came to a fork in the path and Dr. Turner tipped his hat. "Nurse Mannion, I'd thank you for making my ride far less…. Lonesome."

Shelagh's breath caught. "I'd give you the same compliment, Doctor." She paused. "Please tell Mrs. Polly that I'll ride into Hyden this week. Perhaps Wednesday."

"I will. She'll look forward to it." He opened his mouth as if to say more, but nodded instead. "Evening, Nurse."

Turning Mrs. B down the path to the Clinic, Shelagh couldn't resist looking over her shoulder to watch as the doctor rode away, his shoulders slightly hunched now as he made his lonely trek into Hyden. Beech Fork was quiet, Lisette arriving just after Shelagh to care for the horses. They laughed and spoke over a warmed over supper, but as she settled into bed Shelagh couldn't remember what they had spoken about. She resolved to pay better attention to the young girl, but even as she attempted to sleep she found that she was restless and her mind refused to give over to slumber. She put her glasses on and walked around the room, glancing out of the window into the darkness.

She made her way to her bags, intending to take from it a slice of cornbread from the picnic. Her fingers brushed over the edges of Dr. Turner's magazine, instead. She flushed as she pulled it from the bag. Turning on her coal oil lamp, she settled into the bed with the journal, feeling almost as if she was doing something wrong with the rustle of the pages in the darkened room. Running a finger down the table of contents, she stopped at an article that had been circled. _Miners' Nystagmus_, she read, following the loop of the circle with her finger. Feeling foolish, she crossly placed the book on her bedside table, along with her glasses. After extinguishing the light, she willed her heart to slow, resolving to return the magazine to Dr. Turner at Tuesday's clinic.

* * *

_a/n: Jettown is of my own creation, though I borrowed the name from another area in Kentucky. As I was listening to the oral histories of Hyden and the FNS, I realized that some people would mention a local population of African Americans, that there had once been a school and a small community. I wondered about these people and wished to add in their stories; the idea of Affrilachia (coined by Kentuckian Frank X Walker) and the diaspora of black Appalachians as they moved north in search of opportunity and community._


End file.
